


Accidental Mistress

by Failte200



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 73,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3276635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failte200/pseuds/Failte200
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And this is a kind of sweet/romantic take on the whole Mind-Control thing (which normally makes me groan), so if you're looking for... hot stuff... it ain't here.  Rather more like an action story with romance.  Started life as a one-shot and grew from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Kim;_

_You've probably been wondering what happened to me. Long story short: Drakken fired me. Black-balled me in the whole villian community, too. So I've been forceably retired, it seems. Lucky I have lots of savings to keep me living in style these last five months._

_That fight in the Lair, a year ago. You know which one. The one I can't remember. I found the security-camera video of it. I know what happened. Dr. D says there's nothing that can be done, I'm going to be this way forever. That's why he fired me._

_It's not your fault, I don't blame you. You didn't mean to throw me into the Hypno-Ray Gun, and it's not your fault that I hit it so hard it came on, zapping me point-blank._

_I watched you as you were trying to figure out what it did to me. I could see that... you were actually kind of horrified that you could make me do anything you wanted. When Ron said you should turn me into a Good Guy and you actually refused because you said it wasn't right... I... Well..._

_Seven months we went on as usual. How many times did we fight in that seven months? I can't count 'em. And all the time I had no idea I was your slave. Slave. I got some good hits on you too, and you just took 'em when you didn't have to. Because, I guess, you thought it Wouldn't Be Right. I have to say, I'm amazed. If it had been YOU standing in front of the beam, I_

_Well, I wouldn't have been so nice._

_Okay, so now you know I know. I don't dare talk to you in person, because you'll probably just make me forget again, and then I'd be out of a job and not even know why – well, until someone tells me, I guess._

_So much for the easy part._

_I'm writing to you because I have a problem. I can't hardly believe it myself. I'm out of the villian business now, whether I like it or not... so maybe..._

_I think you like me. I think you are -_

_I like you. Always did, but... you know, opposite sides and all..._

_Look: knowing you're my Mistress is turning me on so much I can't think straight. ( so to speak. Ha ha.) Seriously, though. It's just like, ALL THE TIME... and then I wonder if it's something you implanted into my mind – and I get even MORE turned on! It's getting... ridiculous..._

_You're probably thinking I'm such a sicko... yeah, well, you may be right. All I know is I have to try before I fucking explode or something._

_If you want to talk – and promise not to make me forget what I know – meet me at the Mall, in front of Orange Julius, at 3pm tomorrow. By yourself._

_If you don't come, I'll understand. Just... please don't come just to make me forget, like you'd be doing me a favor or something._

_I really wish I could tell what you were thinking right now... I'm dying here..._

_Shego_

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kim was working on her third Orange Julius when Shego saw her. She saw more, too... like Ron, in disguise, pretending to rifle through disks at the movie-store across the way. _I TOLD her to come alone! Why'd she bring him? What's it mean? Should I call this whole thing off? Dammit, Kim! What are you doing?!_ _I suppose you intend to make me forget, too..._ She sighed. Well, if that was Kim's intention, then obviously she wasn't going to be interested in what Shego had been hoping for. Might as well get it over with.

  
  


She walked up to the table and sat down opposite the teen hero – her permanent Mistress – without saying a word.

  
  


Kim looked at her and then quickly away, also not speaking. She honestly had no idea what she was going to do... but she had arrived two hours early and waited this long to do it. There were so many ways... so many things that could go wrong...

  
  


“I said 'by yourself', Kimmie. Not 'with your sidekick'.”

  
  


“I wish you'd call him 'Ron'” Kim said chewing her lower lip – it was a bad start, “Look, no offense, Shego, but you're an _extremely_ dangerous woman, and you have _extremely_ good reasons to hate my guts right now... so I... well -”

  
  


“I thought I told you... couldn't you tell from my letter -”

  
  


“You might have been lying. You've been known to trick me before.”

  
  


She had a point there. From Kim's point of view, she had no particular reason to trust the ex-villian... perhaps even less now than ever before.

  
  


“So... make me tell you the truth, then” Shego said matter-of-factly.

  
  


“Shego... I don't... I'm not... I don't want to do things like that. It's just... wrong. I'd rather take my chances” Kim said, still unable to look her in the eye.

  
  


After a moment, Shego said, “Well, I'd rather you do that than wonder about me, I'm saying.”

  
  


“Shego -”

  
  


“No, wait a minute, Kim. This isn't going how I planned at all. I had everything I wanted to say all figured out, and now... now I can't remember a word of it. So, let's just start at the bottom and work our way up, okay?” She waited as Kim nodded her approval, “Okay. First, I'm bi-sexual, leaning towards women. And I'm seriously attracted to you. Your ball.”

  
  


_Now_ Kim looked up at her, at least briefly. That was awfully... to the point... Kim wasn't sure she could do that. Then again, in the past five months, with no sign of her arch-enemy, she had had a lot of time to think about Shego. Shego and... things...

  
  


“Uhm... same here. Except... well, not so much on the 'bi' part...” Kim's face flushed to outshine her red hair.

  
  


Shego closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. If Kim hadn't said that – or something like that - it would all be over now. As it was, she tried to hide her smile – so _that_ was how Kim Possible came out. “not so much on the 'bi' part...” God, how cute was _that?_!

  
  


“Okay. So... Second: I'm no longer in the villian business. I'm retired. All that stuff between us is history, right?”

  
  


“You're still a wanted criminal, Shego...”

  
  


“Yeah, well... maybe I'm willing to work on that. You could help – but, that's a whole 'nother ball game. Is it history between us or not? Your ball again.”

  
  


Kim considered the implications. To be able to think of Shego as... just a woman, not her arch-nemisis, enemy, someone who wanted her out of the way. To see Shego that way was something Kim had been fantasizing about for _years_! But... to actually do it? And also... she wasn't “just a woman”... she was... she was Kim's...

  
  


Well, why not? What was the alternative? Haul her off to jail? Use her power over her to make her sit in a jail cell for the next... however many years? No. Some things were NOT possible, even for a Possible!

  
  


“Yeah. History. Uhm... I'm having a little trouble with something... don't... don't you hate my guts right now? I mean... considering...”

  
  


Shego leaned back in her chair. _This_ was something she'd thought a _lot_ about, and would be glad to get off her back.

  
  


“I did at first, Kimmie... I mean, seriously. Just like you're thinking, probably. After all, the only way I can be free of you is to kill you. Oh yeah, I started planning to do it, too... but I kept watching the tapes – watching how you wouldn't even go as far as to stop me from being 'a criminal', as you put it. When it was perfectly within your power, and pretty much your reason for doing what you do, anyway. But you didn't. In a way, it made me hate you even more, for awhile. Yeah, hate was like, Phase One. Phase Two was depression. Didn't help when Dr. D fired me. It was... pretty bad, actually.”

  
  


Shego paused here, staring at Kim's drink, “Uhm, you gonna finish that? Getting kinna dry-mouth, here...”

  
  


“Oh... sure... help yourself” Kim said, a little surprised. Germ-sharing was Kim's version of “first base”, however innocuous it might appear.

  
  


“Thanks” she downed half the glass, “So anyway, well, there were other phases: Resignation, Acceptance – fairly short ones. Then finally, uh... the phase I'm in now, apparently.”

  
  


“Which is?” Kim asked, still to stunned to make any connections, but at least no longer too self-conscious to look directly at the other woman.

  
  


Shego smirked, “The sicko pervert phase, Pumpkin. What did you think I meant?”

  
  


“Oh. Uh...”

  
  


“Y'know what? I'm gonna get one of these myself, they're pretty good. Maybe you should go tell the – Ron - that his services are no longer necessary. Well, if you want. God knows I'm not going to be telling _you_ what to do!” she chuckled.

  
  


She actually chuckled.

  
  


Shego had joked about her... condition, with her reluctant Mistress! Kim couldn't believe it... she could not _conceive_ how she could _joke_ about it! The mere mention of... or thought about it, made Kim almost physically ill. If it _had_ been her in that beam... and even if Shego _had_ been "nice" about, Kim didn't know how she'd be able to stand it. And here was Shego joking about it... Kim sat there and thought about it.

  
  


When Shego came back, Kim had her question ready: “How can you possibly be so...” or perhaps not quite as ready as all that, “...so... so...”

  
  


“Cool with it?”

  
  


“Uh, yeah...”

  
  


“Yeah, that's odd, isn't it? As near as I can figure, it's because you _didn't_ try to change me. The look on your face... I could tell you wanted to, sort of... but just couldn't bring yourself to do it. It was hard for you to even make me forget what had happened.”

  
  


She took a sip from her straw, and looked intently into Kim's green eyes, “If you can't trust Kim Possible, who can you trust? I trust you. I know it seems weird... but I do. I just can't imagine you... taking advantage of me. It's just not, heh, Possible. Get it?” Shego made a point of slurping loudly from her drink.

  
  


“You sure?” Kim asked. They were talking _A LOT_ of trust, here...

  
  


Shego chuckled again, “Well, not absolutely, no. That's where the turn-on comes from. When I think about the things you _could_ do to me... well... I get all hot and bothered, put it that way. You... uh... didn't implant that idea, did -”

  
  


“Shego! No! Gah!”

  
  


“Okay okay... just wondering” disappointment showed on her face for just a second, “Well, if you had, it would've been okay... I mean, I wouldn't be mad or anything. Just the opposite, in fact. That's really why I'm here...”

  
  


The high school cheerleader had heard of things like this, but she'd certainly never actually looked anything up about it, let alone considered herself for such a... situation. She did _not_ understand it. Getting off on the idea of being helpless and... and possibly even abused? Kim shivered a little.

  
  


It was not a shiver of horror. It was a shiver made up of a lot of combined feelings, but not horror. It wasn't a shiver of cold, either, but her nipples stiffened anyway...

  
  


“So, I see you didn't get rid of the... of Ron. He's been pretending to read that DVD since I've been here.”

  
  


“Thanks for not saying 'the sidekick' or 'the buffoon'. He really hates that, y'know” Kim replied, glad to put the discussion on safer ground.

  
  


Shego smirked in her trademark way, “Yeah, well, not my fault if you picked a... a... uhm...” She couldn't say it. Why couldn't she say...

  
  


_(I wish you'd call him 'Ron'.)_

  
  


_Oh my... god..._ Shego thought as she realized she'd inadvertently – and helplessly – obeyed Kim's wish, _Wait a minute. “A buffoon for a sidekick.” Okay, I can THINK it..._ A rush of warmth filled her, and she felt slightly light-headed as she realized what had happened. She had to remember to breathe. This was the first time – as far as she could remember – she had actually felt what it was like to... be controlled, and she hadn't even realized it had happened. _Oh, god... why does this get me SO fuckin' excited?_ She chuckled inwardly, _I'm SUCH a perv! I love it!_

  
  


Kim watched as Shego's face blushed with heat and her eyes glazed over.

  
  


“Uh, Shego? Something wrong? You look kind of... funny...”

  
  


“Um... well... uh...”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“... I'd rather not say... not here...”

  
  


“Shego! Tell me what's wrong!”

  
  


That did it.

  
  


“I just realized that I can't call Ron anything but 'Ron' because you said you wished I wouldn't, and it's making me, uh, well, wet myself.” _She did it to me AGAIN!_ “And now, you've also made me tell you what I didn't want to... And I'm getting kind of...dizzy...”

  
  


Kim's eyes widened in horror at the thought of what she'd so off-handedly done, “Oh, gawd! I'm sorry! I didn't mean... I never intended... I'm so sorry! You can call Ron anything you want to, okay? You can DO anything you want to! I... I didn't mean -”

  
  


“Calm down, Pumpkin!” Shego smiled at her, “It's okay! I'm not mad or anything... it's just... well, it feels...” She sighed heavily. Here, in the mall, in front of Orange Julius, she was more sexually excited than she'd ever felt in her life, and no relief was in sight.

  
  


But it seemed her words hadn't consoled her Mistress much, if at all, “Gawd, Shego... I didn't... I'll have to watch what I say... I mean, just saying 'I wish' was enough? I thought it would take... that it would have to be more explicit than that...”

  
  


“Yeah, I'd have thought so too” Shego replied, sounding almost... _cheerfull_ about it,  “I don't know exactly how it works. Maybe we should find out? Oh, hold on: your sidekick is a buffoon. Sorry, just checkin'... I don't really mean it, you know. He's okay, for a boy-scout.”

  
  


“Yeah, he is. So... how do we find out how it works?”

  
  


“Well... how 'bout this: tell me to do something you don't mean, for a start.”

  
  


Kim remained silent for a long time trying to think of something. Absolutely nothing was coming to her, though. The whole thing was too weird, too Drama, too hot... err, too perverse, that is...

  
  


“Pumpkin?” Shego asked, wondering what the hold-up was.

  
  


“Oh. Uh... kind of drawing a blank...”

  
  


“How about 'go jump in the lake'?”

  
  


“Uhm... okay: Shego? Go jump in the lake.”

  
  


Shego waited for something to happen. Everything seemed perfectly normal...

  
  


“Well?” Kim asked.

  
  


“Nada. Probably because I know you don't mean it. Not to mention the closest lake is ten miles away... Well, how about something simple, like 'stand up', then...”

  
  


A hurt look crossed the redhead's face, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? I... I just have a problem with -”

  
  


Shego smiled at her – this was the very reason she _could_ feel so 'cool with it' ,

  
  


“I know you do, Princess... Uhm, I'm sorry? It's because you _do_ that I _don't_! See how it works? Now c'mon, let's try this. I wanna see... what happens.”

  
  


Without looking at her, Kim said, “Stand up, Shego.”

  
  


She did.

  
  


_Whoa!_ _T_ _hat is SO weird! I don't even THINK of fighting it! Wow..._ As the realization of her helplessness sunk in, the warmth between her legs grew all that much warmer. _Geez, I should have brought a change of underwear... Geez..._ she giggled to herself. She looked down at Kim, who was apparently trying to stare a hole through the table. “Okay, Mistress, you-”

  
  


“Do NOT call me MISTRESS!” Kim cried, a little too loud.

  
  


Stunned by the intensity of her reaction, Shego could only say, “You got it. Kim. Now I-”

  
  


Kim looked like she was almost ready to cry, “Shego... I didn't mean it like that! I meant, 'please don't call me'... I mean...”

  
  


“Uh, Kim...”

  
  


“This is so GROSS! I can't even ASK you to do something without it being a damned ORDER!”

  
  


“Kim?”

  
  


“I just want to be your GIRLFRIEND, is all! Not your 'Master' or 'Mistress' or ANYthing like that! Why can't we EVER-”

  
  


“KIM!”

  
  


“- just have... uh... what?”

  
  


“Can I sit down now?”

  
  


The teenager hid her face in her hands, letting the weight of her head rest on her elbows on the table. “Oh gawd, Shego... I can't do this. Yeah, sit down. I mean – GOD! - sit, stand, do what you want! Call me anything you want to! I can't watch every thing I say, wondering if you're going to take it like it's... How can we be... together like that? Why would you even want to? If I were you, I'd be as far away from me as I could GET!”

  
  


Resuming her seat, Shego could see that Kim was in distress. _This is too much for her... maybe I pushed things too fast. It was just that I thought it would be ME with the problem! I never thought she'd care about me... that... much... ohmygod..._

  
  


“Pumpkin? Uh... maybe-”

  
  


Suddenly Kim dropped her hands from her face, revealing reddened eyes and a serious look, even if that look was still only at the table, “No! Shut up!”

  
  


Shego sat stunned. What just happened? Kim was angry? How did everything get so turned around, and so fast? And then the realization of the “shut up” hit her – she couldn't even try to tell her... ANYTHING! _NO! KIM, WAIT!_

  
  


While the older girl tried to come to grip with the radical change of situation, Kim was still talking, “I can't do this. I can't. It's not how... it's not how I ever wanted it to be... us to be. So... So...” She finally looked up into the worried eyes of her Slave, “I'm sorry, Shego. I... I'm really so sorry... I know I promised, by coming here, that I wouldn't do this...”

  
  


Shego's worried look turned to horror, and Kim saw it. Shego was terrified of her... Terrified! OF HER! In Kim's wildest dreams, in her deepest sub-conscious, she'd never thought she'd see a look like that in Shego's eyes. She would never forget it for the rest of her life. Kim's thought processes shut down at the sight, yet her mouth carried on -

  
  


“... but... I want... I order...”

  
  


Shego closed her eyes, unable to bear the thought of what was coming. To be so close, SO CLOSE to a relationship with Kim she'd barely dared to dream about, and have it taken away, and unable to do anything about it... far too much to bear. She hung her head, waiting for Life's biggest insult to date.

  
  


“... I order you... to...”

  
  


Kim saw a tear run down Shego's pale green cheek.

  
  


“... to... forget - ..." but finally, she just couldn't do it, "Oh god, Shego... I don't want to do this... I NEVER want to... hurt you.. EVER!”

  
  


The former thief looked back up at her Mistress, hope flickering in her eyes.

  
  


“And... I can't... I can't now. I... can't do it. I think I should – I really do, but I... Shego... oh...” Kim took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, re-opening them to find the other girl's green eyes still staring into hers.

  
  


“I'll do whatever you want, Shego. You just tell me what to do. I... I can't make the decision, this decision. I need... I need you to tell me what to do..." Kim said earnestly. But that wasn't really the whole story. Kim needed more than just that, but she was having trouble figuring out just what it was she _did_ need...

  
  


"No. No... No, I just need you. Period. I never realized it until you disappeared. You know what they say... It's true... I never knew it until I thought you were gone." _THAT_ was the whole story.  "Tell me... tell me what to do... so we can be... together...”

  
  


Did that cancel the previous 'shut up'? Shego didn't know. And what would she say anyway, even if she could? What Kim needed right now was – what they BOTH needed right now was...

  
  


“Kimmie, let's both just think about things for awhile, okay? Let's meet back here in an hour... say, at four?” A little surprised she'd been able to say it after all, Shego waited for... for her... for her lover to collect herself.

  
  


Looking straight through Shego's eyes, Kim only nodded, got up, and left the table, slowly walking away. A little while later, Shego did the same.

  
  


At four o'clock, they  _RAN_ back into each other's arms.

  
  


* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

"So... wanna tell me what _that_ was all about?" Ron asked once Kim had buckled her seat-belt.

  
  


"Uh... tell ya later" Kim said, hoping she sounded casual. The fact was, she had things to tell Ron, things that weren't going to be easy – for either of them. "I'm starved... Bueno Nacho? I'll treat..."

  
  


"Boo-yah! Nacheritos on Kim! We're there, right Rufus?" The pet rat (rat – naked, mole) nodded his approval, but then looked at Kim again. It had an animal's instincts about when things weren't quite right.

  
  


What wasn't right was that Kim had never even _hinted_ to Ron that he wasn't... boyfriend material. At least to her. She knew that the blonde boy was just waiting his chance, thinking she'd come around sooner or later. Her dating of boys had tapered off to nothing over the summer as it had sunk in that she liked girls. _LIKE_ liked. But she had never told anyone – certainly not her "best friend since pre-K". 

  
  


Ron ordered his usual enough-for-three-people meal and 42-oz BladderBuster soda, while Kim had a taco salad and water. She wasn't feeling particularly hungry anyway.

  
  


After snarfing down his first nacherito, Ron finally had the time between bites to speak, "Ok, is this 'later' enough? So, what's with all the hugging on Shego? You'd think she was your long-lost sister, or something..."

  
  


"Uhm... yeah..." she sighed. She looked down at Rufus and noticed he was obviously avoiding looking back at her. "Ron, uh, you know we're 'friends', right?"

  
  


"Best Friends for Life, KP! So?"

  
  


"So... I mean, that's _all_ we are, right?" He looked at her quizically. "I mean, you aren't... my _boy_ friend or anything -"

  
  


Ron chuckled, "I can wait, KP. You'll see the beauty of the Ron-miester one of these days. I can't help but notice you never hang out with any of the guys you've dated – so you're still looking, right? I'm right here! Ain't goin' nowhere. You'll see, eventually."

  
  


That certainly laid things out for her. _Well, might as well do this now... I wish... Oh... hell_ , she thought playing with her salad. "I... don't think... uh..." _deep breath, Kim,_ "The thing is: I like girls, Ron. I'm gay." She watched Rufus as she said it, noticing that he _still_ wasn't looking at her.

  
  


"Yeah, right. And Shego's your girlfriend. Heh... look, KP, if -"

  
  


"I mean it, Ron. And you're right, Shego and I _are_... well, we're _going to be_ girlfriends. Uh... I hate to break it to you like this, but -"

  
  


Ron had stopped eating with food still in front of him, a bad omen if ever there was one. "Wait – just wait a minute. You're... you're saying you 'like' girls? Not boys?"

  
  


"Yeah... but we can still -"

  
  


"- And, you're not just saying that to get me off your back? 'Cuz I know I was tagging along with you a lot, last summer, but I thought..."

  
  


Kim didn't ask him what he thought, but only kept turning over the lettuce in her bowl, as if searching for the perfect piece.

  
  


It was becoming evident to him that Kim was quite serious. "Oh. So you're... Uh... okay..." Ron stammered. He couldn't think. If Kim was gay, she'd _never_ be interested in him. _EVER!_ Another ten years wouldn't make any difference! Was she sure? And why was she telling him this _now_?! And... Shego? What was her part in all this? Wasn't she a little... _old_ for Kim, anyway? And... just where did _he_ fit in?

  
  


Nowhere. He fit in nowhere at all. _THAT_ is what she was trying to tell him!

  
  


"I... uh... I gotta go... uh... do something at school" he lied, hurridly sliding out of the booth.

  
  


"Wait a second, Ron, what's -"

  
  


"Uhm... here's the keys to the car... I... uh... see ya later, K, uh – Kim" and he was gone, leaving Rufus behind on the table.

  
  


Kim watched him run – RUN! - off down the sidewalk. Heading towards his house – not the school.

  
  


She sighed heavily, "Well, _that_ went just freakin' great..." She looked back down at her salad and saw that Rufus was now watching her. "Left you behind, didn't he, Rufus... he must have been out of his mind. He _never_ leaves you behind, huh?" Rufus only blinked at her. "Yeah, you must feel just like he does right now... left behind. Dammit Ron!"

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


"You left Rufus at the restaurant... I brought him back" she said standing at the door, watching Ron look anywhere but at her.

  
  


"Oh. Uh... thanks. C'mon, Ruf... sorry 'bout that" he said nervously. Rufus climbed off Kim's shoulder and onto his.

  
  


They stood akwardly for awhile, neither knowing what might be the right thing to say. Finally, Kim tried to start, if only because fourteen years of friendship was just _too_ much to let go.

  
  


"Ron... I only figured it out... recently. I don't... I don't see why things have to change, between us."

  
  


"Yeah, well... I guess it gives us something in common, then. We both like girls..." _Gawd! Stupidest thing to say EVER! Yeah, me and KP are going to sit around scratching our... privates... and talking about babes... STUPID!_

  
  


Kim tried to fake a chuckle, but it was obvious, even to Ron.

  
  


Unable to stand the tension anymore, Ron finally said, "So... okay, thanks for bringing Rufus back. See ya later..." He backed away as a signal he intended to shut the door.

  
  


"Yeah. Later." She turned around as the door closed.

  
  


Walking back home, she wished she'd kept Rufus. She could've used his company.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


_"Yellow."_

  
  


_"Yellow yerself. Hey, the WWF Smackdown is gonna come on in half an hour! Wanna come watch? I'll make the popcorn..."_

  
  


_"Uh... thanks Monique, maybe some other time. I... I got stuff to do, so I don't think -"_

  
  


_"You're lying, Ron-man. Can I ask what's going on?"_

  
  


_"Well... no, I don't think I can say... I just gotta...think, I guess. About stuff."_

  
  


_"... well, okay. Listen, if you wanna talk about it, you know I'll listen, right?"_

  
  


_"Thanks. Uh... Tivo it for me?"_

  
  


_"Better! I'll Tivo it but WON'T watch it... it'll be like a rain-check! For when you're feeling better?"_

  
  


_"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks again, Monique..."_

  
  


_"Ta Ron-man."_

  
  


* * *

  
  


The hard parts just kept coming...

  
  


"Mom, Dad? Uh, can we talk somewhere?"

  
  


This was not promising. Kimmie-cub had a problem, and apparently the living-room was not sufficiently private, even if the twins weren't around at the time. Not Good. The Dr.'s Mr and Mrs Possible glanced at each other in fear, and eventually followed Kim into the basement. Both parents were were thinking,  _Well, it can't be the Sex Talk, if I'm (he's) invited... and she's not happy enough to be thinking of marrying someone... so that leaves... pregnant or tattoo. PLEASE let it be a tattoo! PLEASE!!_

  
  


"Mom, Dad... I figured I should just say it, since you'll probably figure it out anyway – I never could hide anything from you very long." Another deep breath later, "I... I'm a... I'm gay."

  
  


_Okaaaaay..._ Mom and Dad thought,  _... maybe pregnancy wouldn't have been so bad, after all._

  
  


"You're a lesbian? You... you're sure..." her father asked.

  
  


"Yeah. I'm sure. Uhm... sorry..." Kim replied dejectedly. Was he... was he going to... what was he going to do?

  
  


Her father turned and started up the stairs without saying anything else.

  
  


"Dad?"

  
  


He didn't answer, but her Mom did, "It's okay, Kimmie. Let him go. He'll be alright, after awhile... he just has... issues with homosexuality. He'll get over it."

  
  


At least her mother might be supportive. Could be worse. But Dad had a special place in her heart, as Dads do with their daughters, oftentimes. It hurt her because she suddenly felt... apart... from him.

  
  


Kim turned to her mother, "So... you're okay with it – with me... then?"

  
  


She looked at her daughter and sighed, sitting down on the laundry hamper, "I don't really have much say in the matter, Kimmie. Not up to me. I won't say I'm happy for you... there'll be things you're going to have to go through that can't be avoided... and there's nothing I can do to make those things better. So in a way, I wish you weren't gay, but like I said: not my choice. Really, it's not your choice either. It's just the way you are. I _am_ proud of you for telling us, though. That took a lot of guts..."

  
  


"You wouldn't believe..." Kim said, "And I've already been through at least one tough thing: I told Ron, and... well, he always thought that I'd... be his girlfriend, someday. So now he thinks I've abandoned him or something, I guess. But... why did Dad just up and leave like that? He... oh, god, _he_ doesn't think I'm abandoning _him_ , does he?"

  
  


"Oh, no, Kim, nothing like that. It's just that you've reminded him of someone he used to know. An old friend of his, from ROTC. A man, actually, who turned out to be gay. And being gay back in those days wasn't like it is now, so this friend of his had some, well, bad things happen to him. He's probably afraid bad things will happen to you too, is all, but when he thinks about it, he'll see that it's different now." She paused trying to think of what more to add, "Look, Kimmie – if you... if you ever go to a lesbian bar or anything – become part of the 'gay scene' – just don't tell him about it, okay? He won't want to hear it."

  
  


"'Gay scene'? Mom, I'm just now getting my first _girlfriend_! It's not like I'm hanging around the gay bars in leather pants or anything! Gah!"

  
  


Mrs. Possible chuckled at that image, "Heh, well, if you ever _do_ , keep it to yourself. Actually, I don't think -I- want to hear about that either! 'Leather pants'... oh, dear..." she began to laugh.

  
  


"What's so funny about leather pants?"

  
  


Her mother looked at her fondly, "I used to own two pair, once upon a time, Kimmie-cub."

  
  


"You?" then Kim was hit with a horrible thought, "You... you weren't... you -"

  
  


Now her Mom's laughter got the best of her, "Oh! No, Kim... I didn't mean -"

  
  


But she couldn't finish for laughing so hard.

  
  


* * *


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you alright, dear?” Anne Possible asked her husband.

  
  


“Ah... I will be. Just came as sort of a surprise, y'know? I hope... she wasn't too upset when I walked out, was she?”

  
  


“She took it as a bad sign, you might say. I tried to explain about your friend – that it wasn't about her – but she could still use some sign that you love her” she said, sliding under the bed covers.

  
  


“Yeah... yeah, I'll make it up to her” he sighed, and rolled over to spoon his wife, “You know how when they're born, and you count their fingers and toes, just to make sure they're normal? Because you don't want them to have any... problems... You want them to have a happy life... It's just – I just want her to have a happy life, is all. And being... gay... is just...”

  
  


“It's changed a lot since we were in college, Robert. It's not like it was.”

  
  


“Yeah. Maybe. But I bet it hasn't changed enough... I mean, it may be 'better', but it's not 'great', know what I mean? The government doesn't recognize a gay relationship as 'legitimate', even in this day and age! Damn bureaucratic right-wing -”

  
  


“Now now, dear, don't get started. By the time she's our age, maybe even that will have changed.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


One more to go. Her _other_ best friend. Well, at least Monique hadn't been counting on ever being her girlfriend – despite her near-constant use of the word...

  
  


“Hi! And welcome to Club Banana! Can I help you find something today?” Monique squealed a little _too_ energetically.

  
  


“Uh...” Kim was a bit taken aback by the other girl's over-enthusiasm. It wasn't like she didn't come here more days than not... Then, a man in a grey suit pushed aside the store-room curtain and non-chalantly walked over to the display of Banana Warmers, pretending to check prices. Kim figured it out.

  
  


“Oh... why, yes, uhm, 'Miss'... I'm looking for something to wear on a date? Y'know, casual but dressy at the same time?” she winked.

  
  


“Why certainly! Right this way, ma'am!” Monique lead her over to the opposite side of the store from the be-suited man.

  
  


Dropping to whisper volume, Kim said, “'Ma'am'? Gimme a break!”

  
  


Monique followed suit, pretending to rifle through some Pygmie Pull-Overs, “I know, I know, GF... big boss man watching, corporate-type. Gotta do the whole routine...” her voice went back to normal, “And _this_ one has a drawstring in the hood for those chilly Arctic nights!”

  
  


Apparently the Corporate Man had had enough of hearing the drivel he required his underlings to exude, and left the store entirely, probably heading for the Starbuck's. Or perhaps Cinnabon, by the looks of his belly.

  
  


Monique slumped and breathed a sigh of relief, “Aw thank GAWD he's gone! Another minute and I SWEAR my reserve tank of ecstatic exhuberance would've been empty!” She frowned, just to make sure she still could. “So, Kimmie, back in the dating-game, finally, are ya? Well, 'bout time! So, how expensive will the dinner be, do ya think? The outfit has to cost three times the dinner. That's the rule.”

  
  


Kim was feeling so comfortable with the other girl now, she totally forgot why she had been anxious when she'd walked in. Big Mistake.

  
  


“Oh, geez... I dunno...” she said, concentrating, “She has pretty expensive tastes in things, but I – urp!” She glanced into Monique's eyes to see if she'd caught the faux pas, but the black girl seemed frozen in her expression. She remained that way for _just_ a little too long, too, then – as if someone had shouted “action!” snapped back to normal.

  
  


“Okay, well, we'll just try to cover all the bases, figuring at the high-end, then. How much do you have to spend?”

  
  


“Well... maybe... a hundred - Uh... Monique... don't pretend you didn't hear what I said... it's... sortof why I came here. Didn't quite intend to just blurt it out like that, but...”

  
  


“A hundred? Good thing I know what's already in your closet, because we're talking ONE new PART of an outfit, here!” She stood back to look at Kim full-length, working out what she could do for her with $100.

  
  


“Monique... c'mon, this is hard enough as it is. Say something...”

  
  


“What do you want me to say, girlfrie – uh, Kim? 'Hey, great, you're dating a girl'? Look, I'm hip, I can deal... with _other_ people being gay. Just never thought _you_ would...” she looked down, shaking her head to get the cobwebs off, “I'm sorry, Kim, I know – I mean I can imagine – how hard this is for you. And I'm really kind of ashamed of myself for... not handling it well. It's just... it's just SO far outta left-field, ya know? I really just have _no idea_ what to say! None! Uh... anyone I know?”

  
  


Kim didn't know whether she should answer or not. It wasn't going as well as she had hoped. When she'd thought about doing this, she even fantasized that she'd find out Monique herself was lesbian – or at least bi – but it didn't look like that was going to happen. _If only I knew SOMEONE else I could talk to! Mom and Dad are out, Ron's out, Monique's out... Can't very well talk to Shego about how she feels about me... dating... Shego. Darnit! Just... SOMEone! ANYone! Anyone who'd say “Hey, congratulations on coming out! I'm so proud of you! Now, here's what you need to know...”_

  
  


A familiar voice came from behind Kim's back, “Excuse me, Monique? Do you have these in five-and-a-half? I can find five and six, but no five-and-a-half... Hey, Kim. Slumming today, are we?” Bonnie. Probably the _last_ person in the _world_ the red-head wanted to deal with right now...

  
  


Monique panicked, glancing at Kim. How much had she heard? Because if _Bonnie_ heard anything, she was playing dumb... but then, that was just like the brunette cheerleader – wait for the time of Maximum Hurtage.

  
  


“Uh...” Then Monique saw her salvation – Bonnie was holding out a pair of baby-blue khaki's – the salesgirl grabbed them and said, “I'll check. Be back in a jiff!” She made a hasty exit, guiltily abandoning her friend to deal with “the BonBitch”, as the cheerleading squad called her.

  
  


“So” Bonnie said, making it sound like a challenge.

  
  


“So” Kim replied, and turned to pretend to look through the blouses.

  
  


“The cargo-pants and belly-shirts are over there...” Bonnie said sarcastically.

  
  


“I'm looking for something to wear on a date, thank you very much. And the whips and chains are two stores over.”

  
  


That actually brought a smile to Bonnie's face: they were on familiar ground, here.

  
  


“A date? You sure you remember how?” she turned her back to Kim and began searching for her size in the Desert Do-Me collection of slinky nylon running-shorts.

  
  


“I'll figure it out” Kim replied, _No thanks to you. Gah! I shouldn't have said 'figure it out'! Sounds like I've never dated before! Must be careful! Can't let her know -_

  
  


Monique had finally recovered some semblence of dignity and returned, “Sorry, Bonnie, no five-and-a-halfs. New shipment comes in next week, though. Anything else?” _Go away! Go away!_ , she thought, trying magic in a desperate attempt to make Bonnie leave.

  
  


“Hm. Can I get a rain-check, then? Make sure no one _else -_ ” she shot Kim a glance, “- walks off with them?”

  
  


Monique huffed. _Dammit, Bonnie, this is SO not the time for you to show up!_ “Fine, fine... I'll go write ya up a rain-check.” She stalked off, obviously perturbed.

  
  


“I _do_ think she's trying to get rid of me!” Bonnie chuckled meanly – it meant, of course, that she would have to draw this out as long as possible. “So, who's the lucky guy – or rather, the poor sap – then?”

  
  


“Non-ya” Kim said curtly.

  
  


“Oh, c'mon, you can tell me! Or... are ya too embarrassed to say, is that it? Right. I'm gussing Ron then. _I_ wouldn't want to admit it, either... But, I don't think you'd be spending money on Ron... so that can't be it...”

  
  


“Here's your rain-check, Bonnie” Monique said handing her a slip of paper. She was no longer trying to hide her annoyance, “Now please, Kim has a date and a limited budget, so this is going to take all my skill to figure out a decent outfit that her girlfriend -” Monique stopped mid-thought and made a high-pitched squealing sound, rather like a dolphin calling to it's mate - almost out of the range of human hearing. Then she RAN back into the safety of the store-room. Kim just closed her eyes, her back still to Bonnie, and waited for the inevitable.

  
  


But Bonnie didn't say anything. In fact, she didn't move at all, for several seconds, her hand still holding the rain-check out. Finally, she tucked it into her purse and said, “Well, I _never_ would have guessed. I have to say – I'm impressed. You've got more on the ball than I've given you credit for. Congratulations.”

  
  


_Congratulations? Congrat – BONNIE?! No... No, I must be taking it wrong... BONNIE!?_ Kim thought through her shock. “Are you saying... are you... No, you can't be... sorry, that was stupid, but -”

  
  


“About seventy-thirty girls-boys, I'd guess. If ya wanna put numbers to it. What about you?” Bonnie replied off-handedly.

  
  


It was a trick. It _had_ to be a trick! _She just wants to get me to say... something she can use later._ “Never mind about me. I know what you're up to! You just want to get me to spill my guts so you can tell everybody what I said! You are SO the bitch, Bonnie!” Kim glared at her.

  
  


But Bonnie only sighed in response, and began fishing through her purse.

  
  


“If you're looking for your phone, I am just SO not in the mood, Bonnie. What I AM in the mood for is some real ass-kick -” She didn't finish because Bonnie was holding out a picture to her; of herself and another girl, in swimsuits, with their arms around each other's waists and goofing for the camera.

  
  


“My girlfriend. This was taken last year, and we were still kinna... feelin' each other out, if ya know what I mean. And if you want proof... hey, wanna give her a call? Ask her yourself! But... first, you gotta tell me who _your_ date is.”

  
  


Kim just kept glaring, with her mouth hanging open. It could still be a trick...

  
  


“Okay okay, you can tell me after, if it's that big a deal. C'mon” she spotted the phone on the cashier's counter, “Monique won't mind – if we ever see her again, that is.” Bonnie broke in to _very_ un-Bonnie-like giggles.

  
  


Kim's glare softened. _WAS_ she serious? “You... you're serious? No tricks? Seventy-thirty?”

  
  


“Yep. Well... it's not like you can _really_ put numbers on it, y'know... but if you were to take any ten people I'd consider attractive, seven might be girls and three might be boys. Might. So... put it like that. Oh, and if you want _me_ to keep _your_ secret, I assume you'll return the favor?”

  
  


“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course! But look, Monique's boss is hanging around, we really can't use the phone... just tell me: who?”

  
  


“You wanna go get something to eat? I think Monique's going to be... unavailable for awhile anyway” the giggling returned, “You can come back for your whatever after. I'm starved. And since it's your first girlfriend – or, am I presuming too-”

  
  


“Yeah. 'My first girlfriend'. Gaw... I can't believe I'm talking to _you_ about girlfriends!”

  
  


“Hey, same here, Kimmie-kins, and Cin is my first girlfriend, too” Bonnie smiled, “So anyway, I'll treat then. C'mon. I'll tell you about mine, you tell me about yours. We'll compare and contrast. 'Kay?”

  
  


Funny how things turn out. Bonnie had never told a SOUL that she liked girls, it was something her whole in-school persona was designed – on purpose – to hide. Seems she was rather picky; she liked butch babes, and there just _weren't_ any in Middleton High. Her girlfriend lived in Upperton, twenty miles away. And although they'd been seeing each other for a year - after meeting through a company party given by the employer of both their fathers – they had _yet_ to “go all the way”. Next weekend was the Annual Company Picnic again, and that's when Bonnie had decided that she would take the plunge.

  
  


Hence the new shorts. A half-size too small. 7-Up shot out of Kim's nose, and Bonnie giggled uncontrolably, when she said that.

  
  


Kim eventually owned up her two secrets – one-hundred percent girls – as far as she knew, anyway - and Shego. She did leave out the “Mistress” aspect, of course. _That_ was going to _stay_ a secret!

  
  


They talked for two solid hours. Kim had thought she'd been desperate for someone to talk to – but Bonnie was nearly psychotic, and just _would not_ shut up! It's hard when you think you're the only one. By the time they went their seperate ways, they both had new best-friends.

  
  


Funny how things turn out.

  
  


* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Ron picked Monique up at 7 pm to take her out to eat. No big deal... it was after the game, so they'd both missed dinner at home. Then they were going to head to her house to watch the previously-recorded professional wrestling matches. It wasn't like a “date”, or anything. He thought. Or more precisely: he didn't think.

  
  


Monique – contrary to standard procedure – was waiting for _him_ , having showered, perfumed, and put on her new outfit: a blaze-orange bustier and matching orange/black zebra-striped mini-skirt, black mid-heels. She checked out Ron's outfit – the black sleeve-tee with a jersey over it, cargo pants – with un-surprised dismay. _He'll learn. He WILL learn. He will learn starting... tonight,_ she thought. Ron's cluelessness was one of his endearing qualities, in her eyes. But eventually, enough was enough!

  
  


They made small-talk as he drove toward Bueno Nacho; about the game, the cheer leading routines, safe subjects. When Ron pulled in and parked, the lessons began:

  
  


“Here we are! Naco paradise!” he looked over at her, wondering why her door wasn't already open.

  
  


“Yeah... Uh, Ron? Could you do me a favor? Could you get me a newspaper from the machine there?” she asked, rather surprising the boy. She slowly undid her safety-belt while he trotted off fumbling for change in his many pockets.

  
  


When he came back and handed her the paper, she was waiting by the hood of the car, making no moves toward going inside. Ron's radar – if he had one – was still blissfully ignorant. He handed her the paper, not knowing quite what to make of it. She rolled it up without glancing at it.

  
  


“Now, close your eyes, Ron...” He gave her a funny look, but did as he was asked.

  
  


“No!” She proceeded to swat him on the nose with the paper, and fairly hard, too, “No, Ron! NO!!” She swatted him once for each “no”.

  
  


Ron flailed in defense, “Mon! What the...”

  
  


“You see this outfit I'm wearing? Like it?”

  
  


“Well, yeah, it's -”

  
  


“It's $145 Ron. On sale. $240 normally. Now, the way I figure it, that means you owe me a $40 dinner. I mean just my part of the bill. And _NOT_ at Bueno Nacho!”

  
  


“But -”

  
  


“But what, Ron-man? You picked me up, you're taking me out to eat, you'll come back to _my_ house to watch tv... so – and you'd better think about this – 'but' what?” She was looking directly and intently into his eyes. Her tone said she was serious, but the faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth said something completely different.

  
  


“Uh...” To say that Ron was at a loss would be an under-statement. He had _no idea_ what was going on.

  
  


Monique began getting back into the car while he stood there still stammering, “Uh... uh...” Noticing she was sitting in the car again, he – cautiously – joined her.

  
  


“Uh...” he continued.

  
  


“Look, I'll let you get away with what you're wearing. This time. Because I know you need education in this area. But don't let it happen again. Red Lobster is just down the street on the left. That would be suitable.”

  
  


He just stared at her from the driver's seat.

  
  


“Now would be good, Ron.” she said without looking at him, letting him have an eye-full. She knew her top would be _very_ revealing from his angle.

  
  


Finally, she turned to look at him slyly, and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. “More where that came from, if you turn out to be a fast-learner...”

  
  


The light went on. Things clicked. Bells rang. So THAT was it! He'd been obsessing over Kim so long, he hadn't even noticed someone right under his nose! Monique! MONIQUE!! Boo-yah!

  
  


But... there was still a little problem... “Uhm, Monique? You wouldn't... have about $70 I could borrow, would ya?” His face flushed.

  
  


Figuring that would be the case, she'd already counted it out, and had exactly that amount stuffed in her perfumed cleavage. She pulled it out and held the roll of cash under his nose, without saying anything. Again, her coy smile said volumes.

  
  


“Uh... thanks. Pay ya back tomorrow” he said, trying to take the offering as she waved it around under his nose so that he couldn't just get it too easily. Finally he grabbed her wrist and took the money with his other hand.

  
  


“So forceful! I like that in a man...”

  
  


“Aww, geez... Monique...”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Bonnie and Cindy (“Cin”, for short) were already at the Red Lobster while Ron was being “educated”. Their date was somewhat more casual – Bonnie hadn't had time to shower, change, _AND_ drive to Upperton to pick up Cin, so she'd just thrown on jeans and a sweater – a tight sweater – instead. Cin didn't mind a bit – she liked how Bonnie smelled – and the tight sweater was... a Good Thing. They were busy trying to out-dainty each other, apparently by seeing who could eat the _least_ of the calamari appetizer.

  
  


“So, Cin... next week's the Company Picnic again, y'know... our 'first anniversary', sorta.” Bonnie said a little shyly. The kids at Middleton High wouldn't have recognized the way Bonnie acted around Cin. She was a different girl, pretty much completely.

  
  


“Uhm-hmm” Cin mumbled through a closed-mouth smile. Unbeknownst to her girlfriend, Cin had exactly the same plans for the weekend as Bonnie did: to wit, “going all the way”. The question was: how would they let each other know?

  
  


Cin made a show of running her hand through her very short, bleached-blonde hair, ruffling it up a bit and then shaking it back down. “I gotcha a present.”

  
  


“You did?!” Bonnie _almost_ squealed, “Uh, I mean, I got you one too. What'd you get me?”

  
  


“Oh, come on, Bon... that would be telling. Gotta save it for the right time. So, what's yours?”

  
  


“I shouldn't tell you now. You're mean.” Bonnie put on the worst fake frown in history.

  
  


“ _Some_ one's looking for a spanking...” Cin replied. Not that they'd ever engaged in anything like that – in fact, their dates were still in the medium-petting stage – but Cin was coming to understand, by the looks in Bonnie's eyes, what turned the other girl on.

  
  


Bonnie flushed, knowing she'd been caught unawares. She fished a small key out of her purse and held it up over the table with a sheepish smile. “To the Visitor Cabin. Stole it off my Dad's key-ring.” The Visitor's Cabin was a small – but luxurious – house at the far end of the Company Retreat, intended for Big Wigs out visiting the site. It was never used during normal Company events.

  
  


Cin smiled broadly, and fished a key exactly like it from her jeans pocket, “Got my brother to bribe the grounds keeper. Looks like we have the same idea” she said, beginning to giggle. “Looks like you'll have to get me _another_ present, too.”

  
  


“No fair! How was I supposed to know... oh, alright. But first, you _have_ to tell me what your present is! I mean it!”

  
  


Cin leaned forward conspiratorially, and Bonnie did the same. Cin whispered into her ear, “Hand-cuffs. Velvet” and leaned back again. She had never seen a dark-skinned girl turn so red.

  
  


It took a full ten seconds for Bonnie to recover enough to say, “You're _SUCH_ a  perv!”

  
  


“Ya think?” Cin said playfully, “Okay, I'll take 'em back, then. I've still got -”

  
  


“NO!” Bonnie cried, and began blushing all over again.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Sometimes, being Head Cheerleader really sucked rocks. Today was one of those times. All Kim could think about all day long was Shego, Shego, Shego, and here it was damn near eight o'clock before they could go out for their first “date”. It didn't really feel like a date – yet – because they'd spent so much time together over the past couple of years. Fighting time. Which in it's own way, was kind of intimate... you had to keep your eyes on your opponent's eyes, you had to learn how they thought, get a “feel” for what they'd be likely to do in a given combination. Learn their “style”.

  
  


And that didn't even take into account the trading of barbs, insults, and (she now understood) innuendo-filled double entendres. All that time... even after the – accident – all the hints were there, but she'd just been to _dumb_ to pick up on it! _Well, maybe not so much “dumb”..._ she thought, _I mean... maybe just... yeah, okay, “dumb” then._ No matter how you looked at, there _was_ an element of “dumbness” to how she'd been acting all this time.

  
  


But now... the facts had been laid bare, the whole situation had changed. _Some_ of the aspects of the situation were... kind of odd... she was still having trouble with the whole “Mistress” business, but she was coming to grips with the fact that Shego was okay with it. Because of the way Kim was. Honest, trustworthy, _clean, reliable, thrifty, punctual... I'm a freakin' boy-scout! Or at least, that's the act I put on..._ Kim was rather anxious about that “act”. Because she was beginning to have thoughts about the older girl that were... well, perhaps not so “clean”.

  
  


Shego was pulling her green and black (of course) 1974 Spitfire into the stadium parking-lot just as Kim was walking off the field. Shego's eyebrows raised as her date swished her way toward the car in her cheerleader uniform, carrying a backpack with her change of clothes in it. For her part, Shego had on a calf-length green dress – tight where it needed to be – but slit _way_ up the side, almost to her hips. That slit was on the side facing Kim as she got in... revealing skin all the way up. It never occurred to Kim that Shego had arranged it that way on purpose.

  
  


“Hey Pumpkin” Shego smirked cheerfully – a combination of expressions few other people could have carried off.

  
  


“...Shego” Kim answered back a little awkwardly. She sat in the low seat and pulled her dress back down where it was supposed to be while Shego openly stared, smiling.

  
  


“Sure you wanna change out of that? I just _love_ obscenely-short skirts!” she said with a slight giggle in her voice.

  
  


“Yeah, well... you said 'date-formal', so I figured... Anyway _your_ dress is is nice. But... Shego, you _are_ wearing underwear, right? That slit makes it look like -”

  
  


“That's how it's supposed to look, Kimmie. But yeah, I am. French-cut. Wanna see?” she said raising her butt off the seat in preparation.

  
  


“No! Shego! It's... don't do that _here!_ Geez! Everyone can see!”

  
  


“Humph” she huffed, sitting back down, “That's kinna the point... well, maybe later then...” She smiled slyly to herself and began to drive off.

  
  


“So, uh... what exactly will we be doing tonight? You were so mysterious on the phone...” Although she was trying to sound casual, she _really_ wondered exactly what – and how much – Shego had planned for the evening.

  
  


“Yeah. About that. It's not starting off well, Kimmie... I wanted to go to Chez Eduardo's, but he's doing some kind of company thing, Cajun Pier is too... loud, Click's is closed for remodeling... I'm afraid we're going to have eat at Red Lobster. Sorry about that.”

  
  


“What sorry? I _love_ Red Lobster!”

  
  


Shego gave her a “you poor, poor girl” look. “Yeah, well, you'd have _loved_ Chez Eduardo's more, and I wanted to kind of knock your socks off tonight” she sighed as she thought about how she'd _wanted_ the evening to go, “Another time, then. I owe ya a sock knocking-offing.”

  
  


“You don't have to spend a lot of money to... impress me, Shego, I -”

  
  


“Kim... I know that. But you would've been, trust me.” Though it was only a little after eight, Shego yawned, unable to stop herself. “Sorry... hard night last night” she giggled.

 

It was a poor choice of phrases. “Why? What were you doing up so late last night?” Kim asked with genuine innocence.

  
  


“Masturbating for you, Princess. Three times. Took a lot outta me” Shego answered as if it were some kind of house-old chore.

  
  


Kim, of course, stared at her in shock. Shego let her _be_ shocked for awhile – be good for her – before saying, “Well, you asked...” She turned her head to wink at Kim.

  
  


“Uh... you didn't _HAVE_ to answer...”

  
  


“Actually, Pumpkin, I did. Can't help it. Can't lie, either, so in the future, you might want to keep that in mind...” Shego was smiling broadly now. Sometimes this whole “helpless slave” thing could be so FUN! And, she'd taken the precaution of bringing along a four-pack of panty-liners this evening, in case of a repeat of the Mall Incident.

  
  


They drove back to Shego's apartment for Kim to change clothes because she didn't want to walk out of her parent's house in her “little red dress” from Club Banana - too many questions to answer. For one thing, it was a _very_ little red dress... Even though this was supposedly going to be a “conventional” date, sort of a “where do we go from here” meeting of the minds. But something had got the best of Kim when she'd seen the dress ($149.95) and imagined dating Shego in it. Coincidentally, the older girl had other - unconventional – ideas of her own...

  
  


And why shouldn't she? They'd “known” each other for years, they'd both admitted that they wanted a sexual relationship with each other - the barriers were down, the lights were green, the flag had been dropped – what the hell was the hold up?

  
  


Shego fairly tackled the Kim as soon as the door was shut, locking her in a deep kiss from which Kim was unable to escape – not that she was trying her best or anything. But it didn't stop with the kiss... the former villain's hands found the edge of Kim's sweater and pulled it up, over her breasts, to her neck. To get the sweater off would require Kim's cooperation by lifting her arms... and she did eventually oblige, perhaps a little reluctantly.

  
  


With the sweater out of the way, Shego began sliding her hands slowly down Kim's back and pushed her down onto the sofa as her kisses found their way from ear-level to breast-level – thus officially making this interlude Further Than Kim Had Ever Gone Before. With Anyone. Ever. And while it's true that the red-head was breathing deep and hard, and almost-but-not-quite trembling, it's also true that her eyes were wide open. When Shego finally pressed her open mouth to one of Kim's erect nipples through her bra and firmly closed her lips – the resulting electricity through her entire body was just more than the teenager could take...

  
  


“Shego!... Stop!” Kim gasped.

  
  


Shego, of course, had to stop.

  
  


It took her a moment to catch her breath, too, “What? Kimmie... _PLEASE_ don't stop me now! I... I _need_ this... you don't know how much I've -”

  
  


“I'm sorry... I'm sorry Shego. I – I just...” unable to express herself, Kim retreated into the safety of making the whole thing sound like a mis-understanding on her partner's part, “I thought we were just going out to dinner...”

  
  


“Kim – Pumpkin, I _told_ you... I jerked-off three times for you yesterday, thinking of tonight... now c'mon on! And besides, haven't you been doing the same thing for me? Don't you want to as bad as I do?” Shego was beyond being polite, beyond tip-toeing around the subject. She was in pain. Sweet pain, perhaps, but it still _hurt_.

  
  


“I... No, I've never... I don't masturbate... I think -”

  
  


Shego lifted her head from Kim's bosom to look her in the eye. What her girlfriend had just said shook Shego inside and out. “What?” she said, her tone  belieing how she felt.

  
  


“I... I don't... I've never -”

  
  


“You've never had an orgasm?” Shego finished for her, unbelieving.

  
  


“N – no. I haven't. I... it's just that...

  
  


Shego closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Her heat and excitement had completely evaporated, like alcohol on a mirror – it faded away before she could even think to watch it go. She lowered her forehead onto Kim's breast-bone, her nose in the girl's cleavage, and took a breath of what had seemed to be the Most Important Thing in the World, only seconds before. Now, the fragrance of her bosom only reminded her that she'd made a mistake. This wasn't going to happen. Not tonight. Not for a long time, maybe...

  
  


She rolled off the other girl and sat cross-legged on the floor, looking away. “How old are you, anyway, Kim?” she asked.

  
  


“I... uh... I'll be seventeen in March. March 11th. Why?”

  
  


Yup. Big Mistake, all right. Only kids answer that question with how old they're _going to be_.

  
  


“Just wondering. I knew you were still in high school an' everything... I guess I just chose to... ignore that fact. I've been imaging you the way I wanted you to be, not the way you are... I suppose it comes from the fighting – you fight so much like me I can't even beat you, comet-powers or not... and I just assumed - because I _wanted_ to assume - that you were... like me in other ways, too. But you're not, are you...”

  
  


“What do you -” Kim began, cut Shego cut her off.

  
  


“No, Kim – please, no questions right now. I need some time to... re-evaluate things. Okay? If you start asking me things, I _have_ to answer, and right now... well, I just feel like an idiot. So no questions, okay?” She stood up, straightening her dress, “You still want to go have dinner?”

  
  


Kim rose onto her elbows and pretended looked around for her sweater, feeling _very_ self-conscious of her still-erect nipples, one of which was still wet with Shego's saliva. That feeling... that electric feeling... was so... dirty... It made her think of things she never thought of before... perverted things. Things involving body-fluids. Things involving... smells and tastes and... how it would feel to have someone inside her. _Inside_ her! And Shego wanted to know if she still wanted to go to _dinner?_ For the first time in her life, Kim actually felt like she wanted to bite off a mouthful of another person's flesh and chew and swallow it, just be have a piece of someone else become a part of her. She could've eaten _Shego_ for dinner! _So why did I tell her to stop? What's WRONG with me?! I should be... sucking on every inch of her body RIGHT NOW! Say something, Kim!!_

  
  


But she'd said “no questions”, and Kim wouldn't ask any. She needed time to think, too.

  
  


But she didn't want to think alone. The moment was gone now anyway... what a moment it had been, too. If only the moment could have gone on... but no... there was too much to... be afraid of. The unknown is always scary, and discovering things you didn't know about _yourself_ are the scariest yet.

  
  


“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Uh... if you do...”

  
  


“Okay, you can get dressed in the bedroom there. I'll wait here.” _Like a friend would_ Shego thought, _Only I don't WANT to be your “friend”! Let alone your “Big Sister”..._ _aww_ _dammit... SUCH the idiot, Shego..._

  
  


* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, THIS is depressing..._ Shego thought while she waited for Kim to change,  _my Mistress is a fucking school-girl – who doesn't even masturbate. Who's never had an orgasm in her fucking life... all sixteen years of it. Gah! How could I BE so stupid?! I was actually counting – COUNTING – on hot-sex-tonight... I'll be lucky if I see her naked before NEXT Christmas!_ She sighed heavily several times. On the bright side, she was no longer mind-numbingly horny – if that  _was_ a bright side. What she needed right now was alcohol... lots and lots of alcohol. And maybe a pack of Pall Malls, to go with it. Fuck quitting. She'd quit two years ago... time to start back up again, eh?

  
  


She was SO not looking forward to this dinner. Red Lobster. Oh, gawd... What the hell was she supposed to talk about, now? Everything lay in ruins.

  
  


When Kim appeared at the bedroom door in her little red dress, the sight – which should have made Shego's heart jump – only broke it instead. _THAT is what I'm missing... Thanks, Kim, for showing me what I can't have. Oh, fuck it..._

  
  


“Well? Whaddaya think?” Kim asked from atop her _surprisingly_ uncomfortable high-heels.

  
  


“'S nice, Kim” she said, trying not to show her dejection too openly (and doing a poor job of it), “You ready, then?”

  
  


“Uh... yeah. If you are...”

  
  


“I am. Let's go.”

  
  


“ _It's nice, Kim”? I spent more money than I had, had to FIGHT with Monique to let me buy it, but I was just SO SURE you'd be... and all I get is “It's nice, Kim”? Shego... what did I do? Is it that I wasn't ready to get naked with you before we even have our first date? Is that it?_

  
  


Kim followed Shego out the door, walking very carefully – she wasn't used to walking in heels... it took a lot of concentration.

  
  


The ride to the restaurant was almost as un-enjoyable as the last moments in her apartment had been. If it weren't for the night air blowing through her hair and the stars above, it might have been a total loss. But the convertible, the night, Shego... all the elements were in place for a romantic drive. All the elements except the mood of the participants. Shego was verging on anger, and Kim was verging on resentment because of it.

  
  


And for Shego, it would get worse before it got better.

  
  


Because there was Bonnie – with her dyke girlfriend – waving to Kim to come join them. Well, that would actually suit Shego fine – she didn't feel much like talking anyway – especially not to Kim. Shego didn't know Bonnie, but obviously Kim did, and they moved to a larger round table.

  
  


And finally, just to complete the picture, like a final insult, in walks Buffoon Sidekick with _his_ girlfriend. More school-kids. Great. Just  fuckin' great.

  
  


Shego flagged down the waitress, “Yeah. Vodka martini. Double. As little vermouth as you can get away with. And when it's gone, I'll have another. Keep 'em coming.” The teenagers all stared at her. She only stared back, and challenged them, “What?”

  
  


Monique, sitting opposite Shego, held her eyes longer than the others, then spoke to Kim, “Kim... GF... I'm sorry about... well, you know. I didn't handle that well... but, hey, I was wrong about the dress! You look great in it!”

  
  


Kim laughed self-depreciatingly, “No, you weren't, Mon – I look like a total slut. But thanks for trying, anyway.”

  
  


“You do _not_ look like a slut, KP” Ron chimed in, “... And, I'm sorry too. I... uh... I just always thought... well... nevermind. You look great. Doesn't she, Shego?” That was Ron's attempt to show Kim that he was 'okay' with her date, even though he was still trying to keep from staring. Kim and... Shego? Sure, it made sense, sort of... but... but it wasn't any of his business anyway. Triple-dating with a four-pack of lesbians was enough to throw any high-school boy a little off.

  
  


The green member of that four-pack only glared at him and said, “If you'll excuse me, I gotta pee” she lied, tact be damned. She took two great swallows of liquor and left the table. Monique watched Shego's reflection in the window as she got change from the cashier and began feeding quarters into the cigarette machine.

  
  


“Uh, me too. Ron? Have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do” she teased him, knowing that leaving him alone was going to make him feel like crawling under the table. She got her purse and went to the lobby.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Shego was kicking and beating the vending machine by the time Monique got there. “Dammit! Gimme my smokes, ya ... ya stupid machine!”

  
  


“Uhm, Shego, is it? I'm Monique. I could bum ya a Winston, if Ultra-Lights are okay...”

  
  


At this point, Shego would have bummed a Virginia Slim from Ron, if the situation had arisen, “Yeah. Good. I thought all you high school kids were programmed to be non-smokers these days...”

  
  


“We are. Doesn't mean we listen. C'mon” she chuckled, handed her a cig, and led the way out the door.

  
  


Outside, after they'd both lit up, Monique watched Shego break off the filter and take a deep, _deep_ , drag. “Gawd, I needed that” Shego said, blowing smoke straight up into the air.

  
  


“Yeah. You seem kinna tense... I'm – well, I _was_ , anyway – Kim's best friend. I guess now I'm just her best _straight_ friend. Well, straight _girl_ friend, if ya count Ron... I'd sure never have guessed that her date was _you_ , though.”

  
  


She received only a curt glance from the older girl.

  
  


Not one to be intimidated, Monique pressed on, “Not going well, I take it..”

  
  


“You could say that.”

  
  


Monique let her simmer awhile – see if she would open up further on her own. She didn't.

  
  


“I _tried_ to tell her not to get that dress, y'know, but she just _would not_ listen to me! She just kept saying 'I want it. She'll like it. She'll _love_ it! I gotta have it!' Wouldn't listen to _me_.”

  
  


“Yeah, well... so she told you about me?” Shego didn't really care one way or the other, she was just trying to change the subject.

  
  


But Monique knew that, and played along, “Ha! It was only by accident she even told me she was going to be dating another girl. I kinda freaked out” she giggled, “but I'm _much_ better now...”

  
  


Shego stared at the black girl. Against her better judgment, there was something about her that she... just liked, somehow. Monique didn't “Uhm..” and “Well...” much at all, but just spoke her mind instead. Shego appreciated that. It was just the breath of fresh air she needed. She was beginning to feel like she _could_ talk to Monique. Maybe even _wanted_ to... but, there was one  sniggling little problem...

  
  


“So, you're out with Ron? Can I ask... well... _WHY_?”

  
  


Monique's eyes narrowed at Shego, and she took another drag from her cigarette before answering, “You don't think much of him, do ya, Shego...”

  
  


“Doy! He's _SUCH_ a buff-”

  
  


“Hey! I'm out with him because I _like_ him! That good enough for ya?”

  
  


Not used to being rebuffed so firmly, it took Shego awhile to regain her composure. It didn't help that Monique was in the right. Shego had been completely tactless, stupid, and... even mean, and Monique had called her to task for it. Small wonder she didn't have any friends. Small wonder she wasn't making any headway with Kim...

  
  


“Uh... yeah, it is. Sorry. I'm kind of new at... uh, anyway, sorry.”

  
  


Again, Monique knew when to talk and when not to talk. She didn't talk now, and took another puff instead.

  
  


“He's going to need training, is all” Monique said casually, looking out over the parking-lot, “I've already started. He was going to take me to Bueno Nacho until I swatted his nose with a rolled-up newspaper” she chuckled.

  
  


“You... swatted his nose...?” Shego asked to make sure she was hearing right.

  
  


“With a rolled-up newspaper. Yeah. Made him buy the paper, too” she looked back at the now-smirking green-skinned brunette, “You approve?”

  
  


Shego smiled for the first time since she'd picked up Kim at the stadium, “I think I'm going to like you... Monique.”

  
  


“Same here. Now, are you going to start acting like you're happy to be with Kim, or do I have to kick your ass... girlfriend.”

  
  


Between “kick your ass” and “girlfriend” Shego didn't know what to make of that question. Or was it a statement? Or was it a _challenge?_ Then, like a door being opened to the daylight, she realized she was being teased. She also realized that she _did_ like this girl, high school or not.

  
  


“She's... she's such a _kid_ , Monique! In some ways, I mean. She's all... 'oh, no, some one might see!' and 'I'm just not sure I'm ready' and... and it's _frustrating the hell_ out of me!”

  
  


Monique stomped out her burning smoke, “So train her up, GF! You don't have to hit her with a paper, either... how about the old 'reward for being good' technique? You have something she wants; she wouldn't be here – and damn sure not in that dress – if she didn't. All you gotta do is make her _work_ for it! Because I get the feeling you haven't exactly been playing 'hard to get', have ya...”

  
  


Shego thought about it. Then, having thought about it, she thought about it some more. Then she stubbed out her butt, too.

  
  


“You do make a point, Monique. Thanks. 'Girlfriend'.”

  
  


“You're welcome. But you owe me” Monique said as she turned to go back inside.

  
  


Shego thought, _Owe her? OWE her? But... but I thought..._ Then the door opened a little wider – she was being teased again.

  
  


“Hey!” was all the normally sarcastic, smart-mouthed, and snide ex-thief could think to say.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Shego had left Kim alone – but with Bonnie and Monique there, she didn't mind so much... her date wasn't being much fun anyway. And when Monique left too, well, there was still her new best friend, Bonnie, and her fascinatingly cute-butch date, Cin. Ron, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. His only hope was that no one would say anything to him.

  
  


“So Cin, Bonnie showed me your picture. You've been dating for a _year_?” Kim asked. It was hard not to stare at Cin... she had a  peculiar combination of the masculine and feminine that was... well, it just suited her, somehow. Maybe the blonde not-quite-buzz-cut had something to do with it. Or just the way she sat – ready to take anyone on, should they dare to look at her funny. Kim could see the attraction. For that matter, so could Ron.

  
  


“Yeah, our anniversary is coming up next weekend, and we're going to 'celebrate', if ya know what I mean.” Bonnie was giving her a “don't you DARE say anything” look, but Cin only winked at her. Kim giggled. Ron was mortified. “Too bad where we're going won't have a TV. I'm gonna miss the season-ending of 'Snowman Hank'.”

  
  


Ron's eyes jerked from a close study of his napkin to Cin's face.

  
  


“You... like 'Snowman Hank'?” He was too shocked at finding another fan to be self-conscious. _Very_ few people liked 'Snowman Hank'...

  
  


“Hon – Ron, was it? - I _love_ 'Snowman Hank'! I have all the DVD's, plus I record my own too. And you can bet I'll be recording the one I miss... but it's just not the same, not being there when it airs, y'know?”

  
  


“Oh, yeah, totally agree – although, for season three, when they had the two-part cliff-hanger, I actually tried _not_ to watch the season finale until I'd recorded the next season premier. Didn't make it, though... lasted about two weeks...”

  
  


“Oh my god! You have the season finale from three?! That's the _only_ one I'm missing!”

  
  


Bonnie's eyes narrowed as she looked back and forth from Cin to Ron. This was not... going well...

  
  


“Sure! I can burn ya a copy if you -”

  
  


“You're my _hero_ , Ron! Tell ya what, I'll trade ya -”

  
  


“HEY!!” Bonnie finally shouted loud enough that the other customers turned to look. She glared at Ron, “Get your own date... This one's mine!”

  
  


Kim blushed, “Uhm... so much for keeping it a secret, Bon...” It was true, the whole room could hear in the sudden silence following Bonnie's outburst.

  
  


Bonnie looked around at the staring faces, “Yeah, that's right. She's _my_ date! Now eat yer food!” Cin stared at her, trying her hardest not to grin. _'Bout time!_ she was thinking. As the strangers turned back to their tables, Bonnie took a drink of water and tried to force herself into composure.

  
  


Cin put her arm around Bonnie's shoulder and gave her a little hug and peck on the ear, “C'mon, BonBon... don't be jealous of the poor _boy_. You know I don't swing that way. But we Hank-fans... we gotta stick together too, y'know?” She winked at Ron with the eye that Bonnie wouldn't be able to see.

  
  


Ron smiled back. He glanced at Kim and saw that she was doing her best to keep from bursting out laughing – just like he was.

  
  


Cin liked 'Snowman Hank', Bonnie had embarrassed herself, and both he and Kim were trying hard not to laugh at it. Lesbians were... cool...

  
  


* * *

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the evening went fairly well from there. Shego managed to get Kim alone for long enough to suggest “Can we just start this evening over?”, Cin surreptitiously passed a note with her e-mail address (“b_a_dyke2@gmail.com”) to Ron while Bonnie wasn't looking, and Monique was able to get Ron to eat with utensils without embarrassing him (too much). So really, it went well, and all three pairs left the table hand-in-hand.

  
  


Bonnie and her girlfriend went to the movies: “D.E.B.S.” Ron and Monique went to Monique's house – her parents were home – to catch up on a _very_ important Professional Wrestling match she'd recorded. Kim and Shego... parked.

  
  


And everybody had a good time. Well... two out of three ain't bad.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Monique's father was secluded in the basement – apparently using power tools, by the sound of it, and her mother was upstairs in the master bedroom, probably reading Vogue in bed. So... Monique and Ron were “pretty much” alone.

  
  


They ate popcorn and watched the wrestling. A disappointment, I know.

  
  


“The Undertaker is so cool!” Ron gushed.

  
  


Monique shot him a concerned look, “The Undertaker sucks, Ron. Sucks rocks. Fat rocks, too.”

  
  


He sort of expected her to agree, and was a little taken aback by her brusqueness. “Mon! He's my favorite! I don't go putting down Stone Cold, y'know... or are you just trying to start an argument...”

  
  


“I say what I think. And I think The Undertaker sucks. You'd prefer me to lie? You want me to say 'Oh, Ron, yeah, he really _is_ , isn't he? Gee-willikins!'?

  
  


That brought a smile to his face – the idea of Monique saying “Gee-willikins!”

  
  


“Well... no... but you could be a little more... I dunno... supportive. Act like a girl. I mean -”

  
  


She gave him a semi-stern look, “You don't wanna go there, Ron-man. I'd have _thought_ you'd got yer fill of 'girlish' after having Dinner With the Lesbians.”

  
  


Aye, that was true. There were times when he could almost _feel_ the testosterone being sucked from his body. Monique was... refreshing.

  
  


“I never realized how much I like you, Mon. You're... you're so...”

  
  


She turned to face him on the couch, suddenly all seriousness, “Ron? There's something I think you should know about me...”

  
  


His heart suddenly sank like a lead balloon. He shoulda known. He sighed heavily and said, “Oh, god, Monique... if you tell me _you're_ a lesbian... I'm gonna cry. I just will. I swear.”

  
  


He didn't see it, but a smile flickered on Monique's lips. “No, I'm not lesbian. But, I think it's something you should know, anyway... I just hope you're not too shocked...”

  
  


Well, at least he still had a chance, then. Unless... no... she couldn't be... She couldn't be -

  
  


“Ron... I'm black.”

  
  


\- a guy... like, a trans-sexua – what? “What?”

  
  


“It's true. I'm a black girl. All over too... Wanna see?” She began unbuttoning her top.

  
  


“Mon!... No!... What?...” but he never got to finish, as Monique finally couldn't hold it any longer, and burst out in laughter.

  
  


He had been had. Hook, line, and sinker. And it _was_ funny...

  
  


“Okay, Mon. You got me. Laugh it up, you deserve it... probably been planning that all night, haven't ya...”

  
  


She could only nod, one hand on her stomach, while the other searched blindly for – and eventually found – his shoulder. “Ah! Ah gawd!... the _look_ on your _face!_ Wha – what did you think I was gonna say?” She could barely get the words out.

  
  


He waited for her to at least catch a breath, “I thought you were gonna tell me you were a guy...”

  
  


That set Monique off all over again.

  
  


That's when Ron got the idea for his revenge. “I did! I figured you were about to tell me that you were a guy in a dress!”

  
  


“Ron!... Ro-” She couldn't find the breath to say anything else. She doubled over, her head touching her knees.

  
  


“Yeah, and I was gonna be all understanding and crap and say how it was okay with me, and we could still be boyfriends...”

  
  


“S - Stop! Ron! You... you're k – killing me!”

  
  


He leaned over on her to whisper in her ear, “And I was gonna say maybe we could go shopping for bras sometime...”

  
  


“S – St – Stop!!” Tears ran from her eyes, her nose ran. Now it was time for him to sit back and admire his handiwork, but instead he found himself staring at the ear and neck he'd just been within inches of. She smelled _good_... He leaned back down to get another  whiff -

  
  


And found his lips pressing against her just below that pretty ear. He hadn't meant to do that... it just... happened... And it kept happening... And he forgot about everything else. All he knew was warmth, fragrance, smooth skin, warmth again... it just went on and on and on... he would never know how long...

  
  


“Yo. Ron” she said.

  
  


By the time he came to, his mouth was just above the top of her breast. He looked into her dark eyes trying to figure out what was happening – or exactly where he was, for that matter.

  
  


“Huh?”

  
  


She looked down at her own belly. Which was kind of an odd thing to do, he thought. What was she... Following her eyes, he looked to, and saw that someone's hands were underneath her shirt, holding her firmly just below the same breasts his head was just above. His hands. He jerked away reflexively, as if she were red-hot, almost ripping her blouse in the process.

  
  


“Calm down, Ron-man... it's alright. It's okay. It's just that this isn't the place. Or time. There'll be other places and times...” she said, smiling at him. He was so _cute_ when he was flustered!

  
  


“Uh... yeah... Look, Mon, I, uh...” his stammering was interrupted by the doorbell. _Thank you GOD_ , he thought, feeling rescued. But before the ringing could even die away, he had changed his mind – _Wait a minute... no... god DAMN it, I mean!_

  
  


“I'll get it!” Monique shouted up to her parents.

  
  


Shego stood at the door looking characteristically dour, “We need to talk” she said, striding purposefully into the house without waiting to be asked.

  
  


“Uhm, sure, Shego... c'mon in, _I guess_ ” Monique said making it plain that her presence was not entirely welcome.

  
  


“I need to talk about Kim...” she began, and then spotted Ron on the couch, “Oh, it's the side – uh, I mean - I see Ron's still here.” She turned to him, “Can you give us a little privacy?”

  
  


“Yeah, I'll -”

  
  


“Sit down, Ron” Monique commanded, and then fixed her eyes on the older girl, “You wanna talk about Kim? Well here's _two_ of your best resources. And he probably knows more than I do anyway. So, talk.” She was at least polite enough to leave out _And make it fast_ , although she was thinking it.

  
  


Shego glowered back at her for a moment, but eventually gave up when it became apparent that Monique would not be cowed.

  
  


“We... there used to be... it's not like...” she stammered, “Oh! She just pisses me off SO much! Gah! I can't even _think_ straight!”

  
  


“Calm down, GF. Here, sit. Have some popcorn... lemme getcha something to drink – what's yer pref?”

  
  


“Just water, but I don't -” before she could finish, a bowl of popcorn was put in her lap and Monique was off to the kitchen, leaving her there with Ron. She glared at him, and he sat there with a look of “What'd _I_ do?”

  
  


Monique came back and handed Shego her ice-water, then sat down in the other chair, next to her. “Now, take a deep breath – and tell me what happened tonight.”

  
  


“I took her down to the river overlook, y'know? Watch the moon rise? And we, well, we made out a little... and I mean _a little_... I... She...”

  
  


“And you were disappointed. Things not happening fast enough for ya?” Monique suggested.

  
  


“Not really so much that... I mean, I _know_ things are going to go slow for awhile. It's just...  somethings missing. Somethings wrong. She won't tell me what! I ask her 'What's wrong?' and she just _SITS_ there like -”

  
  


“What makes you think she knows?”

  
  


That caught the green-skinned girl off-guard. She's just sort of _assumed_ that Kim had something on her mind. Or something.

  
  


“Okay, you got me there. But... before, back when we were enemies, we used to have this... this _thing_ , or at least I _think_ we did... I mean, _I_ did, for sure...”

  
  


Ron broke in, “Well, of course you -”

  
  


“Is anyone talking to you Ron? _ANY_ one at all?” Shego growled, then turned back to Monique, “Anyway, I used to get this feeling... like, if only we weren't on opposite sides of everything, we'd... be all over each other. And now that we aren't, it's like -”

  
  


Ron broke in again, “Shego, why don't -”

  
  


Having had enough interruption while she was having a hard enough time talking anyway, Shego nearly screamed at him, “RON!! Isn't there SOMETHING you could be doing right now???” Her eyes bored into his.

  
  


“Yeah. Yeah, there is, in fact! I _COULD_ be getting out my Kimmunicator and giving Wade a call, so he could set up a fake mission for Team Possible, and then you could meet her in some abandoned warehouse somewhere and the two of you could fight like old times and get yer damn - flames or whatever - back! THAT is what I COULD be doing! But _INSTEAD_ , I'm gonna go see what's in the fridge!” He stormed off into the kitchen.

  
  


Shego's mouth hung open. The fighting! THAT's what was missing! The physical contest of skill and will, the eye-contact, the banter... YES! But...

  
  


She looked over at Monique.

  
  


“Uh-huh... Yer bad-ass 'tude gotcha in deep kim-chee, dinnit? And now you're looking at _me_?” The black teenage high school cheerleader was smirking at _her_ , now.

  
  


“I... he... Monique! You gotta talk to him! You gotta tell him -”

  
  


“ _I_ don't gotta tell him squat! Y'know, Shego... what the hell is your problem with him, anyway?” 

  
  


Shego slumped back in her chair. The answer she'd sought was obvious now, the missing piece found. And it was in the hands of the Sidekick Buffoon, of all fucking places! “You'll just get mad at me. Again.”

  
  


“No, promise not to. C'mon. What's the prob?” Monique asked, no longer smirking.

  
  


“The 'prob' is that he's just _such_ a... dork!” Shego chose her words more carefully than usual.

  
  


“Yeah. He kinna is. And you're _such_ a bitch, too, but I still like _you_... I don't think that's the whole story. No one actually _hates_ dorks. You make fun of dorks, or you think dorks are cute, but ya don't _hate_ 'em for being dorks.” A realization was beginning to form in Monique's mind as she said that. What _does_ one hate someone else for... She reached into the end-table drawer and pulled out a Post-It and a pen, wrote something down on it, and folded it in half while Shego stared at her.

  
  


“What's that all about?”

  
  


“You'll see. So tell me, what do you have against Ron. Why do you keep calling him 'the sidekick'?”

  
  


“Because that's what he is! Every time – every DAMN time - me and Kim would meet, there'd he be, right behind her - with that stupid rat of his - getting in the way, ruining everything... and any help he ever was to her was pure random accident... Accident! It's weird, how he -”

  
  


“And when all the fighting is over? When the Bad Guys are Foiled Again, what happens then?” _The set up..._ Monique thought.

  
  


Shego thought about it. “Well, usually I'll be in the hovercraft with Drakken, and she'd probably go home with... him... Oh, no. Oh no no no... If you're even _thinking_ that I'm jealous of Ron Stoppable!... Well, you can just... And besides, she's totally gay, y'know! No interest in boys at all! So you're just SO wrong if -”

  
  


“Yeah. But you didn't know that until – when?” _And the Coup-de-gras. Touche'. Grand Slam Smackdown._

  
  


Shego sat dumb-founded. After giving her awhile to think about it, Monique handed her the Post-It: _“Jealous. Thought he was Kim's boyfriend.”_ it said when Shego unfolded it.

  
  


“Ah, gawd...” she slumped even further into the over-stuffed chair, “Well, thank you, Monique. _Girlfriend._ I feel like a total shit now...”

  
  


“Good.”

  
  


Shego looked up at her, “You enjoyed that, didn't you...”

  
  


“It's like a hobby” Monique smiled. From the kitchen, they could hear a plate being set on the counter-top. “You know what you gotta do now, right?”

  
  


Shego sighed, “Yeah, I know. I gotta go crawling and begging to... to The Buffoon, and ask him to please _please_ help me...”

  
  


“Excellent!” Monique squealed, “I'm gonna watch!”

  
  


Trapped between the wisdom of one and the utility of another teenager, Shego really had no options left. “Do you _have_ to?” she asked.

  
  


Monique clapped her hands together, “No, I don't. It's a perk! C'mon!” she giggled. It took every ounce of Shego's strength just to get up from that damn chair.

  
  


* * *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Shego shuffled into the kitchen with Monique right behind her, but Monique stopped at the door and leaned against the frame with her arms crossed, ready to watch the show. Shego sat at the table where Ron had fixed himself a peanut-butter and marshmallow-creme sandwich. He didn't even glance up at her.

  
  


“So... Ron...” was about all she could get out, and she actually winced at having to use his name of her own volition. She looked back at Monique, who only stared back at her, smirking faintly.

  
  


Ron still didn't speak or look over at her, pretending to be absorbed in his sandwich.

  
  


Shego sighed. “The thing is... Ron... uh... I'd really appreciate it if you'd make that call...”

  
  


“And why would I want to do that? What have you ever done for me?” he said snidely.

  
  


He had a point there. “Well, yeah, I know... but... Look, if you're one of Kim's best friends, and I'm her... girlfriend, then I guess we'd better learn to get along. Okay?”

  
  


Monique interrupted, “Oh, Jesus, Shego... I'd have never thought you'd be such a weenie. Ron? She's been jealous of you 'cause she thought you were Kim's boyfriend. That's why she's so mean to you. And she's too chicken-shit to say it.”

  
  


Shego held her face in her hands, in acute humiliation. “Thank you, Monique... I would've gotten to that, in my own time.”

  
  


“BS, GF. Now, apologize for all the 'buffoon' remarks.”

  
  


Ron was looking back and froth between the two girls, munching his sandwich. He felt kind of like a Roman spectator at a gladiatorial match, and Monique's kitchen was his own tiny Coliseum.

  
  


“I'm sorry I called you a buffoon” Shego said mechanically, still hiding under her hair and hands.

  
  


If she was going to be that way about it... Monique continued, “You're sorry for bein' such a mean ole bitch.”

  
  


Again, Shego repeated it verbatim, “I'm sorry for being such a mean ole bitch.”

  
  


“I want to have your children.”

  
  


“I want to have your chil... MONIQUE!” But Monique was already gone, giggling her way back to the couch in the other room. Shego turned back to Ron, expecting him to be laughing at her too. She had to remind herself not to flame-up as she imagined the look on his face.

  
  


But Ron wasn't laughing. He wasn't even looking at her. He was looking down at his plate and slightly frowning. Shego relaxed – a little.

  
  


Finally, he said, “Yeah, I can understand that. I kinna used to think I _was_ , or at least – would be – her boyfriend, too. Actually, I should be flattered, I guess...” He looked up at her, “So you've been... uh, interested... in her for a long time, haven't ya...”

  
  


He'd noticed that? “Yeah. Years. But y'know, being on opposite sides of the law and everything... not much chance of – well...”

  
  


“I always thought there was something funny about the way you two fought. Funny strange, I mean. Not 'funny ha-ha'.”

  
  


Shego _really_ wasn't ready to have this conversation with... him. “So, are you going to help me out or not?”

  
  


He stared at her for just a moment before answering, “Oh, of _course_ I'm going to 'help you out'. It's what I do. I'm a 'good guy', even if my name's never on tv. But you gotta start calling me 'Ron'. From now on, I mean. And not just to me.”

  
  


“I can live with that. Ron.”

  
  


He took on a conspiratorial tone, “Does Monique know about... uh... y'know...”

  
  


“No. And I'd like to keep it that way, so if you're even THINKING of telling anyone, you'd better...” she paused, reconsidering what she was about to say, “I mean, I'd appreciate it if you'd _keep_ that a secret. Ron.”

  
  


“Yeah. Okay” he took another bite of his disgusting sandwich and said with his mouth full, “You can count on me.”

  
  


For some reason, she believed she probably could.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Kim stepped stealthily down the dimly-lit hallway, all her senses tuned to her surroundings, ready for anything unexpected. She was uneasy about this mission... there were an awful lot of things Wade didn't seem to know about what was going on. And Wade _always_ knew more than he had any right to. So something was definitely different this time, and she was being extra-cautious.

  
  


Ron was right behind her, trying his best to take the whole thing seriously, or at least pretend to. They were getting close so where Shego was supposed to be hidden, so he lagged farther and farther behind, until eventually Kim was a good fifty-feet in front of him. By the time Kim passed under the air-conditioning duct where Shego was supposed to be hidden, he was nowhere to be seen.

  
  


Shego slid quietly down from the duct, each movement measured and slow – noiseless. Now standing only ten feet behind the teen hero, her trade-mark smirk playing on her lips, she took two leaps and tried for a jumping spin-kick to Kim's head.

  
  


It was a real kick – it would have knocked Kim out immediately, had the kick connected. Of course, it didn't. They never did.

  
  


Kim sensed something different about the echoes of her own footsteps, and felt the pressure wave of her mid-air enemy pass through her hair. She instinctively ducked and whirled, arms out, crouched down. She saw a familiar green-and-black pattern fly over her head.

  
  


“Hey, Princess” Shego said sarcastically.

  
  


“Shego!” Several possibilities passed through Kim's head – Shego was back to her old self, working for some criminal, and all that “Mistress” stuff was an elaborate hoax of some sort. Or maybe that wasn't Shego at all. Or maybe _her_ Shego wasn't the real Shego... Or maybe...

  
  


Before she could finish that thought (and all those thoughts only took a fraction of a second), Shego was all spinning arms and legs, twisting, kicking, ducking – Kim didn't have _time_ to think – this was survival, this was action and re-action, this was... what fighting Shego was like. The two girls ran through half-a-dozen named  maneuvers each before they faced off long enough to speak.

  
  


“Like old times, ain't it, Kimmie...” Shego smirked.

  
  


Kim still wasn't sure exactly what was happening. Her adrenalin was up, her blood was pumping, everything was in sharp-focus, and her mind took a moment to adjust to the slower perception of the passage of time that conscious thought demanded.

  
  


“Shego? What... why are you here?” She looked around for her back-up, but Ron seemed to have disappeared. That was odd, too... “Ron!” she cried out, fearing he might have gotten himself into trouble. Again and as usual.

  
  


“Ron will be waiting outside by now. Just you and me, Pumpkin. Like it's supposed to be. Remember?”

  
  


“But -”

  
  


'But' Shego was attacking again – she didn't want Kim to figure out too much just yet. This was going well. Strike that – this was going GREAT! She dove off to the teenager's side and landed an elbow into her gut. A connection! Time to celebrate!

  
  


“That's one, love” she giggled.

  
  


“Shego! Stop it!” Kim said without thinking, still trying to unscramble her brain.

  
  


“Oh, come ON Kimmie! That's not fair! Look, it's a set-up, okay? Ron set the whole thing up with that 'Wade' guy... and I should probably say that it was Ron's idea, too.”

  
  


Actually, that _would_ explain a lot. “But... why...”

  
  


“Because we _need_ to fight! It's who we are! It's what we do! Now  c'mon... say 'go Shego' or something. I can't do anything right now except stand here like an idiot and talk. Talking's not what we're about. Is it, Pumpkin...”

  
  


Kim felt _so_ alive – the dim, strange surroundings, the mystery, the dangerous foe... and Shego _was_ dangerous, too... even at play. Kim smiled, finally getting it, “What, no plasma?”

  
  


“Would it do any good?”

  
  


“Never has, has it? Still, if we're gonna do this... let's do it _right_!”

  
  


“You're the boss, Kimmie. So – 'go Shego'?” She asked as the green glow surrounded her hands.

  
  


This was gonna be  _SO_ great! She'd have to properly thank Ron sometime... her smile became a grin,  “Yeah. Go, Shego!”

  
  


They proceeded to wear each other out, non-stop, for the next twenty minutes. None of the usual banter, no stopping to trade insults or innuendo – they were beyond that now. It was a constant battle, and it _was_ serious; many of the blows might have landed the  recipient in the hospital, had they connected, but blows that hard took time to set up, and they both knew how to spot the other's set-ups. 

  
  


The fight became a constant dance, without any stepping off to the side or pauses. Both their bodies were in constant motion – sometimes Shego leading, sometimes Kim. An on-looker would have thought it was all rehearsed, their actions fit together so precisely. There were weapons-of-opportunity to be had: a fire extinguisher here, a piece of pipe there, an old car antenna... they were ignored. This wasn't about winning – this was about Unity. This was what they'd always wanted, but Winning had gotten in the way, before.

  
  


Not now. It didn't matter who “won” now.  _That_ was the difference...

  
  


And not thinking – that was the key. That was why Kim had been too self-conscious to allow Shego to go further than petting when they were making-out. That was why the fighting was crucial – no thinking because there wasn't  _time_ to think. It was a mode they got into... intimate, physical... the ebb-and-flow of attack and defend, the give-and-take of blocking and punching. Becoming lost in each other. Being the giver and the one given to... it translated so easily into... this:

  
  


Kim threw Shego against the wall with a twist of her shoulder, grabbed her arms and held them behind her back, immobilizing her with her face against the drywall. Shego _could_ have broken the hold before it was even completed – she knew a dozen ways to do so, and she knew that Kim knew that she knew - but something told her not to. Somehow she felt that the Dance was changing, morphing into something else. Before these thoughts could even finish flashing through her mind, she felt Kim pressing her against the wall with her whole body, the girl's face and hot breath buried into and nuzzling deeper and deeper through her hair. Kim let go of her arms, and encircled Shego's belly instead.

  
  


Shego turned around inside Kim's embrace and panted into her hair while the other girl's open mouth slid around her neck, up her jawline, and over her own mouth. But they were breathing too hard to actually kiss, and had to be content with just brushing their lips together while they continued to fight for air. There just didn't seem to _be_ enough air! They panted into each other's lungs as their lips explored, both of them now holding the other's head as if to make sure she couldn't get away.

  
  


They simultaneously pushed each other back, opening their eyes and looking into each other, as if they were both asking permission for the next step, but there was more in it than just that. It was almost like seeing each other for the first time, in a new light.

  
  


They began frantically undressing, seeming to know instinctively when to help each other out. Shego pulled her hidden zipper from neck to mid-thigh, and while Kim pulled Shego's cat-suit sleeves off, Shego tugged Kim's sweater up over her head and let it fall where it may. The speed at which the undressing was happing was almost comical – like something in a cartoon, where Babs Bunny unzips her Buster Bunny suit to reveal herself within the space of three frames. Having to undress was an annoyance – something to be dealt with as quickly as possible. There was nothing erotic about it. Shoes and boots flew, a utility belt sailed through the air... followed by a black B-cup sports-bra, and a green, C-cup-sized one, too. Cargo pants slid across the hallway floor. The remaining leg of Shego's skin-tight spandex reluctantly let go of it's wearer with a snap as Kim pulled on it.

  
  


They were down to their panties before Wade could even switch off the security camera.

  
  


In a movie, the two partners would have spent long seconds just staring at each other while the violins played.

  
  


Instead, Kim immediately fell to her knees and began pulling down Shego's underwear, her fast breath blowing on Shego's groin before they were even below her knees. No foreplay here. No need. Been there, done that, martial-arts style.

  
  


This was the other reason Kim's behavior had been so up-tight: she didn't know what she might do if the heat of the moment – any moment – were to get to her. She'd been having what she considered “dirty” thoughts about Shego... thoughts about doing things that were... embarrassing. “I'd never be able to look her in the eye again” type thoughts.

  
  


Lucky she wasn't thinking now.

  
  


Shego leaned back against the wall, bracing herself with her arms out, while Kim braced herself against Shego's thighs. This was Kim's time, and Shego was just along for the ride. Her role right now was only to react to what was being done to her; her verbal signals - “Ah!!” when Kim pressed her tongue too hard against her button, “Ohmmmm...” after she'd backed off and pressed at it from underneath instead – the only form of communication between them.

  
  


But the red-head wasn't really interested in Shego's reactions so much as she was obsessed with Shego's actual body. It was her first time – with anyone – and there were things she... wanted. At the very top of that list, fairly far above her second-place desires, was to taste Shego's vagina.

  
  


One would think that Kim – being a girl herself – would know better than to try and do that from the front... yet it took her a full two minutes of trying to figure it out. Still on her knees, she scooted back two steps, pulled Shego forcefully away from the wall and spun her around, then dove in from behind, trying to lick, suck, and pant for breath at the same time.

  
  


After the initial shock, and a little time to figure out what Kim was up to, Shego leaned forward against the wall again while Kim's tongue probed – and found – the tunnel she was looking for.

  
  


It wasn't really so different from kissing her mouth. It _felt_ different, and it was quite a bit wetter, but as far as taste – about the same. But Kim wasn't really thinking these things – they would filter into her conscious mind later – right now her passion was more absorbed in the _knowing_ of where she was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it to: Shego. Between Shego's legs. Her face buried in Shego's bottom. Her tongue in Shego's vagina. _That_ was what mattered! _That_ was what she wanted! 

  
  


And Shego, “along for the ride” as she was, alternately closed and opened wide her eyes as Kim took her. The feel of Kim's hot breath on her vulva _alone_ was enough to shut her mind down, never mind Kim's soft lips on her labia, never mind Kim's questioning tongue probing inside her. She shuddered involuntarily. Her passion sprang from the same well as Kim's: the knowing. Knowing it was _Kim_ behind her, _Kim's_ mouth pressed to her labia, _Kim's_ nose against her butthole, _Kim's_ tongue within her, and _Kim_ who couldn't seem to get enough. It would be fair to say that “Kim” filled her mind, and therefore no surprise that she kept quietly repeating her name as she gasped for breath.

  
  


Their dance continued in unison, just as it had before. Only the tune had changed.

  
  


When it came, Shego's orgasm was like a new experience for her, because it came all at once - not the usual slow buildup she was used to. She wasn't even expecting it – it shouldn't have happened at all. Not without clitoral stimulation of some kind it shouldn't. It never had before. But the Kim kept pressing her tongue down – with respect to her mouth – or forward – with respect to Shego's vagina - playing at the odd, smooth but pebbly texture she found there and eventually Shego just exploded without warning, wracking her body and mind with the intense sweet pain. She nearly hit her forehead against the wall as the spasms shook the pair of them. She cried out with each one, because she couldn't help it.

  
  


Outside the building, Ron heard, and smiled to himself without really knowing why.

  
  


Kim might have stopped, had she been listening, but she was having her own mental climax of sorts, as she suddenly found her mouth full of liquid – the bodily expression of her lover's culminating passion. She swallowed, and still it came on, hot, wet, apparently out of nowhere, seeming as if it had just suddenly materialized in her mouth. She swallowed again.

  
  


And again.

  
  


She hadn't known that this was what she'd been wanting – to drink from between Shego's legs – but now that it was happening, she lost herself in it even more than she'd been lost in Shego's body before. To drink, to swallow, to consume... to make a part of Shego a part of herself... to _be_ Shego in a very real and physical sense – _this_ was what she'd hungered for, and she began to slurp, lap, and suck greedily, wanting more, more, ever more, don't stop Shego, fill me up, give me all of you, I want all of you...

  
  


Until finally she'd taken as much as the other girl could give, and – with the greatest reluctance – removed her face from the warm embracing kiss of Shego's vulva. She wiped her face with her arm and looked up and down at the body she'd just... shared. Shego's body. She looked between the buttocks in front of her face at her brown rose, and gave Shego a playful lick on her anus, at which the older girl's eyes popped open again with an expression of “Oh god, what now?”, but Kim just did it that once. It was a sort of signal, although Kim wasn't conscious of it at the time; it meant “nothing is too intimate for me, now, because I'm yours”.

  
  


Shego turned slowly around, unsure of her muscles, of whether they would obey her commands or not, and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, face to face, with Kim sitting on her heels between her pale green legs. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment. There was nothing that really needed saying.

  
  


The Dance paused as the dancers caught their breaths.

  
  


* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

Finally Shego had recovered herself – and her breath – enough to say, “You're just full of surprises, Pumpkin... Doy!”

  
  


Not quite sure which “surprise” she was referring to, but unable to keep from thinking of all the things she'd done that had surprised _herself_ , Kim blushed and lowered her eyes. Which only made her blush more as her eyes fell onto Shego's breasts... so she looked off to the side, abashedly.

  
  


“Yeah” Kim said, “... didn't know I had it in me.” She rolled her eyes as possible puns from that remark crossed her mind, and quickly added, changing the subject, “You know, it's _my_ turn now, right?”

  
  


Shego smirked in the way that Kim found infuriating and enticing at the same time, “Depends on what you mean by 'turn', I guess. As far as I'm concerned, it's _my_ 'turn', but then, we might mean the same thing, either way.”

  
  


Kim looked away again in embarrassment. She kept _doing_ that!

  
  


“God, Kimmie... you are _SO_ cute when you blush like that... I wish I had a camera right now.”

  
  


Kim looked back over and up into Shego's green eyes and smiled, suddenly realizing that it was okay to be embarrassed – and not necessary to be embarrassed _about_ being embarrassed – in front of her lover. Her lover... the phrase echoed in her mind. _Shego is my lover. I'm her lover. We're lovers. I..._ the final phase, the caboose to that train of thought, _... love her. I love her. I... love... her..._

  
  


“I love her” she whispered out loud, not quite knowing that she was doing so.

  
  


Somehow, Shego's lips lost the smirking quality, but remained smiling.

  
  


“I love her, too” Shego replied, only a little louder.

  
  


Kim's face burned, but she didn't look away this time.

  
  


Shego took pity, “But this floor is cold on my butt. Wanna see the bedroom?” she asked teasingly, nodding toward a door behind Kim, and carefully lifting herself off the floor on her still-weak legs.

  
  


“The bedroom?”

  
  


“Well... a bed. In a room. So I guess it's a bedroom _now_...” she grinned , holding out a hand to help Kim get up because her legs were shaky too – she'd been on her knees for some time.

  
  


“How... who... -”

  
  


“Ron, Monique, and Wade set it all up. I think that Bonnie girl might have been in on it too. Ron told me about it this afternoon. I knew they were putting _something_ together... but I have to admit, I never expected anything like this -” She opened the door.

  
  


One wouldn't think that pink, green, and black would be that great of a combination, but in the decor of _this_ “bedroom” it seemed perfectly natural. Perfectly natural for a bedroom suite in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, anyway.

  
  


Drapes hung over the (painted-out) windows behind a queen-sized bed. There was a couch, two chairs, a coffee-table... only the television was missing. Even the walls had been painted – pink, green, and black, of course, just like the drapes, bedspread, and blankets that covered the furniture. It wasn't extravagant by any means, but Kim could tell that a lot of thought had gone into it. And an immaculate – if a little decrepit – bathroom completed the amenities.

  
  


Kim stood in awe. Ron, Mon, Bon, and Wade did all this? She knew they were _friends_ , but this... this was a whole 'nother thing. She suddenly felt almost like crying. With friends like these... well, and an enemy like Shego, for that matter...

  
  


Shego stood in awe too – staring from behind at Kim clad only in her pink rose-print undies. She wanted _so_ much to touch the her. She was _allowed_ to touch her. She had a _right_ to touch her. It was her _turn_ to touch her...

  
  


But there was something else she wanted in addition to that, “Kimmie... you know what I want you to do to me, don't you?”

  
  


That snapped the teenager out of it. Shego wanted to be controlled, wanted Kim to be her Mistress. Yes, she knew... and she didn't want to. Or at least, a _part_ of her didn't want to, a deeply-hidden part - a part she didn't really want to expose to the light of day. If she were to lose herself _again_ , doing _that_... well, _I'd never be able to look her in the eye again_. A feeling she'd had before...

  
  


And found out it wasn't the case. But, as always, 'this was different'. What if she... were to go to far? Shego could hate her! _She_ would certainly hate Shego if... if the situation were the other way around... big time! Here they had finally _found_ something in each other, and the very _thought_ of losing it so soon, and for Shego's cheap thrill... _Okay, that's not fair – I don't know what kind of thrill she gets from it... I just know I don't understand it. Well, much. No, no, I don't..._

  
  


“Shego... I... I'm not sure I'm...”

  
  


“Nothing big, don't worry. Just... y'know, a little, here and there. You don't know how it feels, to me Pumpkin... It's not like you think.”

  
  


Kim turned around to face her, “So... uh... what _is_ it like, then?”

  
  


“I don't think I can really explain” Shego said, abashed herself now. She walked over to the painted window as if she'd be able to look out from it, “It's... I guess it's just so different from... y'know, how I am, usually. How we were. Just the _thought_ of you... having your way with me...” Looking back and seeing the look on Kim's face, she stopped trying to explain and just sighed deeply, giving in. “Look, Kim. If ya don't want to, it's okay. Maybe some other time? You'll think about it?”

  
  


Kim swallowed, “I have thought about it.”

  
  


Shego raised an eyebrow. Was that a good sign or a bad one? “... And?...”

  
  


Kim hadn't really thought that she'd have to _explain_ what she meant – she wasn't thinking that far ahead. “And... I... uh... Well, I _might_ like it... I think... depending on...”

  
  


A glimmer of hope was good enough for Shego, “Okay, okay Pumpkin. I can see ya don't wanna talk about it. I really don't want to pressure you into anything.” She went back over to her girlfriend – lover – and put her arms over her shoulders, looking down slightly into Kim's face. “If ya want to – it's cool. If not – that's cool too. 'Kay?”

  
  


Kim held Shego's hips as she looked up into her eyes. Whatever happened, it would be “cool”... For some reason, she thought that maybe Shego was right about that... Well then... maybe...

  
  


“Lie down, Shego” she commanded, only a little apprehensively.

  
  


Shego bit her lower lip as she felt the order take hold. Of course, Kim had meant “on the bed”, even though she hadn't said it – she knew that. She turned and took the two steps to the bed, trying all the time to stop herself. Trying to find _a way_ to stop herself – but she couldn't. She lay down on her back, arms out, legs slightly spread.

  
  


_Now, why did I do THAT? How come I didn't just lie on my stomach, or side, or... and how come I put my arms out like this?_ When the answer occurred to her, she shivered –  _because this is what she meant. Or maybe it's just what I want her to mean – lie down and be... helpless..._ A rush of warmth came over her to replace the shiver.  _Helpless..._

  
  


Kim sat on the bed beside her, unsure what to do next. Shego wasn't saying anything... but the expression in her eyes... was... begging for more? Could that be right? Or was it just Kim's imagination. She looked Shego's body up and down as she lay spread-eagled on the bed – hers to do with as she pleased. _That_ thought was making her hot, even as she wished it didn't. Then – an idea. She straddled Shego's hips, and more ideas sprang  unbidden into her mind. Yes. She could do this. It would be... okay...

  
  


“Now don't move” Kim said, adding “And be quiet” just a little later. She felt a little apprehensive about the 'be quiet'... cutting off Shego's only way of giving her feedback. But to try and undo the order would sort of break the mood. And Shego wasn't complaining. Not that she _could_ have complained anyway... still, she didn't _look_ distressed. Maybe a little worried... but that was part of the game, wasn't it? Kim hoped so.

  
  


She began fondling Shego's breasts, cupping them and pushing them slightly up. Squeezing lightly. Kneading gently. She began to kiss them, first one, then the other, careful to keep _away_ from her nipples. She brushed her lips along the soft, pale, green skin, inhaling Shego's fragrance, running along the outsides, the bottoms, the cleavage... everywhere but the nipples, which were by now fully erect and begging to to be suckled. Shego began to moan quietly from the back of her throat without knowing it.

  
  


Kim hadn't touched the nipples.  _Nothing_ had touched Shego's nipples. And yet... Shego could  _feel_ her nipples, somehow. She was  _aware_ of them in a strange way, as if – as if her nipples themselves were  _expecting_ Kim's mouth upon them at any moment.

  
  


When that moment finally came, her chest involuntarily heaved, as if trying to press her breast into Kim's face, to _force_ the nipple further into Kim's mouth. But Kim didn't allow that to happen, and lifted and lowered her head along with the convulsions, all the while putting as much saliva onto the nipple as she could, spreading it around the  aureole with her tongue. And still – even with her lips sealed around it – she tried her best to stay away from the very tip. She had one hand on her lover's other breast, that nipple between the second joints of her index and middle finger.

  
  


She bought those fingers and her lips together at the same time, slightly suckling, putting pressure on the sides of that second-most-erogenous zone – never directly on top. Shego's breath caught in her throat. Her Mistress relaxed the hand, and let her mouth open itself, her lips sliding back down the spit-slick aureole.

  
  


Then she closed them again, just a bit more forcefully than before. Then opened. And closed again... and again... and again... until Shego thought she might go insane, her head thrashing back and forth despite the order not to move. It was almost like torture – Shego lay there helpless, unable to do anything, unable to even speak while Kim suckled gently at one nipple and squeezed the other in steady rhythm. The sensation was near-electric, pulsing through her whole body, building, building... she was going to orgasm. From just her nipples? How was it that Kim kept _doing_ this to to her?

  
  


That was the thought that released it: what was Kim doing to her...

  
  


She screamed in short bursts as her hips and chest both went into uncontrollable convulsions, as if she were trying to buck the other girl off, but Kim held on and tried not to break contact, at the same time trying to ensure that the other girl didn't''t force her breast _too_ hard into her face. Meanwhile, Shego's arms also convulsed, rising up off the bed, and then jerking back down, as if her body and mind were fighting each other for control. Her hands clutched at the sheets, then splayed out, then clutched again.

  
  


Eventually – after about two minutes – Kim began to lighten up on her suckling and squeezing, because Shego's screaming had ended, then the bucking and flailing, and finally the gasping and clutching. She just instinctively knew that Shego's erogenous zones would be largely un-touchable now, so sensitive that _any_ further stimulation would only be  perceived as pain. She slid further down until she could rest her head on her lover's heaving belly and listened to her breathe.

  
  


“Is that what you wanted?” Kim asked, already knowing the answer.

  
  


“Oh... god... Kim...” Shego panted. “Yes... Let... Let me... move...” Apparently it was alright to talk again, at least in answer to a question.

  
  


“Okay, Shego. I take it all back.” She lifted her lips from Shego's belly-button to look at her face questioningly, “Does that work? What I said about taking it back?”

  
  


Shego lifted her arms and stroked Kim's hair, “Looks like it does, yeah” she said. That was _SO_ good, _SO_ what she'd wanted – even the “be quiet” was just the perfect added touch... “Kimmie... thank you. You don't _know_ how good that was...”

  
  


“That's two for you and I'm still waiting for mine. I thought it was supposed to be my turn!” Kim teased, smiling up at her from her stomach.

  
  


“Your wish is my command, Mistress.”

  
  


“Oh, stop it” Kim giggled, but kind of appreciated the 'Mistress' part. She could get used to that. Oh yeah, she could.

  
  


“Get up here, Princess.”

  
  


“Hey! I thought _I_ was giving the orders around here!”

  
  


“Oh?” Shego raised an eyebrow, “So, you _are_ starting to get into it, then?” She had rather thought that what Kim had just done would be the end of it, for tonight. But if Kim were willing to go further...

  
  


Kim thought about it. She could _make_ Shego do things to her... but they were all things Shego would probably do anyway. It had been _kind_ of fun “having her way” with her body while Shego couldn't do anything about it. And there _were_ things that she'd like that Shego probably wouldn't think to do...

  
  


But nah. Not now. The “Mistress” thing could be fun from time to time, but Kim really didn't want it to become a cornerstone of their relationship, sexual or otherwise.

  
  


“Yeah, I think I am... but... don't you think that's enough for... y'know, our first night?”

  
  


Shego smiled at her, “I guess so. Don't want to over-do it. Besides, it'll give ya more time to think, right? Maybe... surprise me again? You really do, Kimmie. I'm actually surprised at how _much_ you surprise me.”

  
  


Kim crawled up face to face with her, another idea springing to her mind as she did so, “Hey, I got one. I got an order for ya. You'll like it.”

  
  


“Do tell, Princess. How may I serve?” Shego asked, getting a little worried again. Kim's voice had an odd tone to it, when she'd spoken.

  
  


Kim rolled over, pulling Shego on top of her, then held her up by the shoulders, so that the older girl was suspended above her face, the jet-black hair falling down from both sides of Shego's head, making a private space for the two of them.

  
  


“It's my turn, right?” Kim whispered.

  
  


“Yessss...” Shego answered apprehensively. What did Kim have in mind?

  
  


“Shego – rock my world.”

  
  


Oh. Well... doy, “Yes, Mistress” she said.

  
  


And she did.

  
  


* * *

 


	9. Chapter 9

Ron knocked softly at the door, “Uh, Kim? Shego? Uh... I need to... uh... talk to you. Uh... can I come in?

  
  


Resting her head atop Kim's bottom, Shego's eyes narrowed. The damn sidekick! Lucky she'd already 'rocked Kim's world' – because if he'd interrupted her fifteen minutes ago... well, that door probably wouldn't survive, either. “Go away!” she yelled.

  
  


“Uh... yeah. Look, Shego, we have a situation here... I really need to, uh, talk to you. Both of you...”

  
  


Shego jumped off the bed and lept to the door naked, too angry to bother with covering herself up. One hand lit with plasma - and before Kim could even come to her senses enough to ask what was happening - Shego flung open the door.

  
  


There was Ron, wide-eyed, with Rufus on his shoulder – equally wide-eyed. And behind him, twenty-five uniformed GJ agents aiming automatic rifles at her head.

  
  


Ron held out the clothes the two girls had left in the hall, “Uh... here...”

  
  


Shego slammed the door shut without taking the offering, “Kim! Get up! We gotta go!” Her survival instincts had taken over, and she was searching for a way out. The building would doubtless be surrounded, blasting a hole in the wall would just draw gunfire, and for all her Comet Powers, she was _not_ immune to bullets. And neither was Kim... _oh my god, Kim! What am I going to do about -_

  
  


“Shego? What's going on?” the teenager said through her confusion. She'd just had her _third_ earth-shattering orgasm, and still wasn't thinking quite straight. She'd heard Ron's voice... what was that all about? Why was Shego so frantic suddenly? Because of Ron? “What's Ron doing here? Did I hear him say -”

  
  


“He brought the GJ, Kim. He set me up! The whole thing was a -” she stopped abruptly. The _whole_ thing was a trap? Kim was in on it? In her panicked state of mind, it didn't occur to Shego that if Kim had wanted to turn her in, all she had to do was march her down to  Headquarters. “YOU!? YOU were in on this? Kim... I... I... HOW _COULD_ YOU??”

  
  


Kim was rapidly getting her wits about her – whatever was going on, apparently it was dead-serious. And Kim could deal with dead-serious. Besides her extreme martial-arts skills, that was really her only super-power: she could make snap decisions - in a hurry and under considerable stress - based on woefully insufficient information, and do it _continuously_ as the situation changed.

  
  


“How could I what?” she asked, but the ex-Thief wasn't listening – she was busy ripping off an air-conditioner vent grill. Kim knew the problem was outside the door, whatever it was, but... Ron was out there. And _he_ didn't sound frantic. She reasoned that she had time to get more info on the sitch, but Shego was obviously in some kind of... state... “Shego... stop. Calm down. Tell me what's happening.” She hadn't meant it as a command, of course – but it was, anyway.

  
  


Shego stopped as if frozen in place, still pulling on the metal grill. And much to her surprise, she _did_ calm down – it was amazing how that could work, and a little frightening, too. _Well, so much for a quick escape, I guess_ she thought, resigned to her fate. _Probably wouldn't have worked anyway. They've had too much time to get ready. I am going to KILL that sidekick of hers! Somehow – when she's not around..._ then her brain reminded her that she was supposed to be telling Kim what was happening. She sighed long and loud. This was the other side of the coin, then. Being helpless to someone's every command – even Kim Possible's - had it's down-side. Anger began to swell within her.

  
  


“Ron set us – set me – up. There's probably a whole division of GJ agents outside, armed to the teeth. We – I mean, _I_ \- am caught, it looks like.” She stared at Kim as she let that sink in. “Kim... _you_ didn't have anything to do with -”

  
  


“Shego! No, I... and I can't believe that Ron did either! There's another explanation... Let me get my... uh... uh-oh. You mean, they're _right_ outside?”

  
  


“Right outside.”

  
  


“Oh.” Kim wrapped herself in a sheet and headed for the door. “Shego – just... just let me see what's going on, okay? Don't... uh, I'm sorry, but don't do anything, okay?”

  
  


Still naked, Shego plopped herself down in a chair. Obviously this wasn't going to be _her_ show, Kim was running everything – including her. Might as well get comfortable. This sucked. Shego huffed in disgust at the situation. This was not _her_ way way of doing things. At all. Kick-ass-and-sort-it-out-later was her way. Kim could see the frustration in her features and felt bad about commanding Shego like that, but... this was a Sitch, and she needed to handle it. She cracked open the door and peeked out.

  
  


“KP...” Ron said apologetically, “The word got out. I don't know how... I guess we had too many people in on this... uh, here's your clothes.”

  
  


She just stared at him for awhile as the possibilities ran through her mind: fight, flight, or go along peacefully and see what happened. But she couldn't fight the Good Guys, nor would she flee from them; _she_ was a 'good guy' for chrissakes! For now, there was only one thing to do.

  
  


“We'll be out in a minute, Ron. Tell them we'll go peacefully – they can put their guns down. I'll take care of...” She looked into Ron's eyes – did they know about Shego's... special... relationship with her? Had anyone told them? Only Ron knew... had he told... but wait – Dr. Drakken knew, too. So the whole villain world probably knew, and the GJ kept pretty close eyes on the villain world... They probably did know, then. Still, no use showing your cards just because you _think_ your opponent knows what they are. “Tell them Shego will go peacefully, too. Okay?”

  
  


“Yeah, okay. Uh, KP – Kim? I'm sorry about this... I guess I didn't exactly 'have your back'...”

  
  


“It's okay, Ron. I know you're on my – _our_ – side. Give us a minute.” She closed the door and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

  
  


Shego had heard them talking, “So, you'll 'take care of me', will ya? Make sure I don't try to escape or anything. Make sure I don't light up and start mowing down agents... Make it easy for them. How convenient. For them.”

  
  


“We don't have any _choice_ Shego!” Kim shouted at her, “We have to play along! They are the good guys! _I'm_ a good guy! And... you must have known something like this would happen... someday. Now hurry – uh, I mean...” Kim paused, she was about to start giving orders, but didn't want them to be _orders_ , “Shego... I don't want to make you do anything, I really don't. So... will you do this the way I want? Will you get dressed and come with me and... and we'll see what happens?”

  
  


“Do I have a choice?” Shego's tone dripped with ice-water that chilled Kim to the bone.

  
  


“Shego... I... we don't have time for this! Will you _please -_ ” she began to plead, only to be cut off.

  
  


“ _DO I HAVE A CHOICE??”_

  
  


It was a tense and silent moment before Kim could answer, “N – no. I -”

  
  


“Didn't think so” the Thief said curtly, and pulled the bundle of clothes out of Kim's hands, searching for her underwear.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The ride to GJ headquarters was dead silent. Kim had to fight with the agent in charge just to ride in the same car as the green villain, but Shego showed no sign of appreciating the gesture. Not a word, not a glance. She pulled her hand away when Kim tried to hold it.

  
  


Kim almost had to fight the agents again to be allowed to stay in Shego's cell. But again, Shego just lay in her bunk and took no notice. She was thinking, _Kim's just keeping an eye on me, is all. She knows I can't do anything as long as she's here to stop me – otherwise I'd have blown that wall out and be outta here by now._ She liked the bitterness of that thought so much that she just kept repeating it to herself over and over, never realizing that Kim could simply _order_ her to stay put and not attempt to escape. No, Shego had her mind made up, and wouldn't listen to anything that didn't fit her angry  assessment. Even from herself.

  
  


“Ms. Possible?” a female guard said, in that polite but menacing way that all prison-guard's acquired on the job, “Dr. Director would like to speak with you.” She proceeded to unlock the door – it being a foregone conclusion that Kim would follow her.

  
  


Kim thought – just for a second – about actually going. It was like a conditioned-response; when the Director of the GJ asks to see you, you go. If she did go, it would be on Shego's behalf, of course. But she couldn't do it. It was a matter of principle by this point. They were in this together. _Together!_ And nothing was going to remove her from Shego's side. Certainly not the polite respect of dropping everything at the beck and call of Dr. Director. Fuck 'polite respect'.

  
  


“Tell the Director she'll either have to see both of us, or come down here herself. I'm not leaving Shego.”

  
  


The guard paused, and then snorted and re-locked the cell door. As she walked away, Kim heard her mutter “... dykes...”.

  
  


Kim balled up her fist unconsciously, _'_ _Dykes_ _'? I'm STILL Kim Possible you... bitch! I've saved the world more times than you've... you've... well, a lot of times! GAWD! how can anyone be so..._ She looked at her fist and realized what was happening to her. So that's why the gays and lesbians always seemed so angry. So this is how it felt. She'd always just shrugged it off before – wasn't her problem. Now it was personal. She sighed and tried to force herself to be calm, _Yeah, I'm a dyke. No matter what else I am, or what else I do, they'll always think of me as a “dyke” first. So I guess now I'm the “Dyke Teenage Heroine”. Great. Just... freakin' great..._

  
  


Dyke, kike, fag, nigger, spic... it was really all the same, wasn't it... _We're different than you. That's all you care about... That's all you see..._

  
  


“Don't let her get to you, Kim” Shegos voice drifted down from the top bunk, “They're everywhere – you can't get away from them. Nothing you can do or say will change her mind – ever. She's not worth getting worked-up over.”

  
  


An unexpected bit of wisdom from the lover who Kim was sure hated her. “You're talking to me again?”

  
  


“Don't push it. I'm still mad.”

  
  


“Yeah, well... me too. It's just... I wish I had someone to be mad _with_ me” Kim said a little forlornly.

  
  


Shego swung her legs over the bunk and looked over and down at the top of Kim's head. “So, you don't think Ron set me up?”

  
  


“Of course Ron didn't set _us_ up, Shego! Gaw! Look, I know you don't like him – for some reason – but he's... he's... well, he wouldn't do that. To us.”

_No. He probably wouldn't, at that. Damn boy-scout..._ Shego thought.  _Guess I was jumping to conclusions a little. Well, a lot. Okay, so I panicked. Panic is a good thing, panic has saved my skin more often than anything else._

  
  


“Yeah, he's okay, I guess. Just kind of infuriating sometimes, the way he does those... off-the-wall things he does and it always works out in his favor. And... well, I used to be jealous of him, y'know. Thought he was your boyfriend. So it's kind of like an old habit. Sorry.”

  
  


Kim sat in shocked silence: she could understand Shego's frustration at Ron's Mystical Monkey Power – it was kinna weird – and it _would_ be frustrating, from her point of view. But – jealous? _That_ had certainly never occurred to her.

  
  


The lingering silence was wearing on Shego. She'd just admitted something about herself that she wasn't proud of, and Kim hadn't said anything.

  
  


“Kim.. I was kind of crazy back there. I don't like getting caught. In fact, I _hate_... Anyway, then you ordered me to stop what I was doing and 'calm down'... well, it just... I was mad at you for that. But... thinking about it, maybe you did the right thing – I don't think I could've gotten out of that mess alive. I probably would have tried, too. I was just really getting into, uh, the 'Mistress' thing, y'know, and suddenly the tables turned, sorta. I didn't _like_ being commanded like that. I... I guess I hated you for it, for awhile.”

  
  


Kim stood so she could face the other girl, “I didn't like doing it either. I didn't want to... I didn't want to _have_ to... but, you were -”

  
  


“Yeah I know. Can we just forget about it?”

  
  


“Sure. So... friends again? I mean... you know what I mean...”

  
  


Shego wasn't ready to go quite that far yet, “Depends. Why are you here, Princess? Why'd you go piss off the guard – that's a bad habit to get into, by the way – instead of going to talk to your pal Dr. Director? You... keeping an eye on me?”

  
  


“Shego! No! It's just... It's just that I know how these people work. If they get us apart, they'll _keep_ us apart, if only to give us another reason to get everything over with quickly. Say whatever they want... I mean... they know we're... y'know... -”

  
  


“Fuck-buddies?”

  
  


“SHEGO!!” Kim cried, taken aback by the... the _crudeness_ of that remark.

  
  


But Shego only smiled back at Kim's shock, her way of breaking the remaining ice, “Oh, yeah, 'lovers' I meant. Sorry.” She had to restrain herself from giggling as Kim blushed.

  
  


Kim realized her chain was being pulled, “You're just _so_ the bitch, aren'tcha... I think I love that about you” she said smiling back.

  
  


“And _you_ are such the Princess. I swear, if I could get you to wear a sailor-blouse and a pleated skirt, I think -”

  
  


Outside the cell, Dr. Director cleared her throat, “Ahem.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Kim knew immediately who was standing outside the cell, what she didn't know was _how long_ she'd been there – how much she'd heard. Had she given anything away?

  
  


“I should inform you – both of you – that people on either side of you can hear you. Now, Kim Possible, I'd like to talk to you... alone” the Director said.

  
  


Kim turned slowly to face her. Dr. Director was now – well, not exactly her _enemy_ – but the _opposition_ , anyway. She would need to handle this sitch carefully... and a good way to start, would be to show the Director that she would handle things on her own terms.

  
  


“I don't have anything to say that I can't say in front of her” Kim nodded toward Shego in the top bunk, “We _are not_ going to be split up.” The “period” was unspoken but almost audible just the same.

  
  


The Director was impressed – a fairly naive teenage girl was trying to lay down ground rules for _her_ game. That took... balls. Kim had certainly never acted like this before. Obviously, Shego was the root cause of the change, but she needed to see just how far Kim would go, just how serious was this relationship - this new facet of one of her best future-agent's character.

  
  


“How many agents do you think it will take to get you out of there by force, Kim? I put it at about fifteen, provided they go in with their Tasers charged. And if Shego were to cut loose – well, we'll have a full-scale assault on our hands, I suppose. Which probably won't end until someone gets killed” Dr. Director paused for dramatic effect, “Shall I make the call?”

  
  


_She's bluffing_ Kim thought,  _She wouldn't risk that much destruction just to get me away from Shego for an interrogation. She's bluffing... Isn't she? She MUST be bluffing!_ Dr. Director  _did_ have a reputation for bluffing – and for calling bluffs, as well. She also had a reputation for getting what she wanted by  _any_ means necessary, even if it meant going to absolutely ridiculous lengths. She might do it. But... why?

  
  


“You do what you think you have to, Doctor” Kim said, calling the bluff, and immediately sorry she did. “But... Look, we... you and me... we know each other... Can't we... I mean, Shego won't...”

  
  


“If the _two_ of you will follow me? I'll take us to a more private place to talk” the Director said, unlocking the door and turning to go. She didn't look back to see if she was being followed. Kim was getting her way, but the Director had won the contest of wills – and Will was what mattered here.

  
  


Shego jumped down off the bunk and followed the Director, with Kim following behind. They went through the maze of the compound silently, Dr. Directors heels on the tile floor the only sound. Eventually, they were shown to a plain-looking room with a table and four chairs. Kim and Shego sat on the far side.

  
  


“Coffee?” the Director asked them. Standard procedure – get the interviewees comfortable.

  
  


“Could we just get on with -” Kim was saying.

  
  


“Please. Black.” Shego said.

  
  


Dr. Director nodded at Shego and left them alone in the room to get the coffee.

  
  


“Shego, you know this place is bugged, right? We're probably on camera, too... this isn't time to get comfortable! She's good at interrogations. She has a rep for it. This isn't going to be fun...”

  
  


“I imagine I've been in more rooms like this than you have, Princess. I know what's going on. I also know that _nothing_ happens quickly in jail, so you might as well take whatever they're willing to give you. Besides...  exactly what are we trying to cover up here? I've committed no new crimes, you've never committed _any_ , I imagine – I'm curious to see what she's up to, frankly. You think maybe we've been arrested for breaking Ohio sodomy laws?” Shego chuckled at the thought.

  
  


But it was a good question. Shego had a list of warrants – more like a _book_ of warrants – so long, and going back three years... what was there to interrogate? She'd been caught on film, there were thousands of eye-witnesses to her crimes... and Kim? Kim might be considered an “accessory” for not informing the GJ of her whereabouts... but then, that went for Ron, Monique, Bonnie, Kim's parents...

  
  


“Here we are, then; black, right?” the Director said as she came back in. Kim eyed her warily.

  
  


“Thank you, Dr. Director. And may I say that's quite the stunning eye-patch you have there – it complements your hair quite well. Is it new?” Shego smiled and took a sip of coffee as the Director seated herself.

  
  


This was not the first time they'd met in an interrogation room. In fact, it was the sixth.

  
  


“Thank you, Shego. Yes, I finally decided to go all the way with it – custom made in England, you know. Finest silk. You're the first person who's dared to say anything, and I appreciate that. I see your outfit hasn't changed...” she glanced at Kim, “although I'm guessing that many other things have.”

  
  


Kim stood up knocking back her chair “Could we cut the chit-chat here?? What did you want to see me about? This isn't High Tea at the Palace!”

  
  


“Calm down, Princess” Shego tried not to laugh, “I told you – nothing happens fast in here. There's time for chit-chat, as you call it. Trust me, she'll get around to saying what she has to say when she's ready. And she knows we're not going anywhere.”

  
  


Kim picked up her chair and slammed it back down some distance from the table. She sat in it crossing her arms and legs, “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for conversation. My first time in jail, an' all. I'd like to get to the point.”

  
  


Dr. Director and Shego exchanged knowing looks, and Shego could tell that the Director was enjoying Kim's show. Meanwhile, the Doctor could see by the look on Shego's face that she and Kim were, in fact, a couple. The bonds of any couple show best when they're in conflict, as Kim and Shego were now. It looked like that bond was probably destined to last a long time too. It was something about the way their moods and attitudes complemented each other even in disagreement. Yes, their relationship was serious. One question answered.

  
  


“I just want to get this over with” Kim said, then had another thought, “And before I say anything about anything, I want the cameras and microphones off. In fact, I want the room swept for bugs, too, now that I think about it. How did you know where to find us?”

  
  


Dr. Director considered her options: sweeping the room for eavesdropping devices would take time – time during which Kim would probably calm down, and thus lose her desire to talk just to get the talking over with. On the other hand, the girl had good reasons to be suspicious – the anonymous tip about Shego _WAS_ odd. For one thing, it was untraceable. _Very_ few phone calls – in fact, none for years – were untraceable by the GJ... so a sweep might be a good thing. And if afterward Kim felt she could talk more freely, well then, that was the way to go.

  
  


“If you insist, Kim – and as a show of good-faith on the GJ's part – I will sweep the room. Afterward, I expect you to be as forthcoming as you can about anything I want to know. Deal?” The Director lifted her eye patch to emphasize the word 'deal', so that Kim would know it was a Big Thing the Director was doing – even though she was intending to do it anyway. Good to keep your opponent thinking they owe you, even if they don't. Especially if they don't.

  
  


“Deal” Kim said suspiciously. She was getting her way with Dr. Director... that was something to be suspicious about.

  
  


“Good” the Director said, and pulled something that looked like an over-sized Kimmunicator out of her coat-pocket. She pressed a button on it, and two tiny antennas sprung from the sides. She talked as she watched the display.

  
  


“Really, though, this room was just swept last week as part of normal house-keeping here, so I don't... really... hellooooo...” her voice trailed off.

  
  


“Something?” Kim asked. She didn't really expect the Director to find anything, either.

  
  


“Hmmm. Yes, a signal – but not conveying any information. More like... like a tracking beacon. But it's spread-spectrum, hard to lock on to... the common frequency-hopping algorithms don't seem to work. A custom-made job, then.”

  
  


“That's nice, just find it and destroy it, is all I care about” Kim said impatiently.

  
  


“That would be a mistake, Kim.” The Director walked around the room, pointing at the ceiling, the floor, the corners... at Kim... at Shego... “Here we go. Shego, would you stand up, please?”

  
  


It turned out to be the snap-button on her leg-pouch.

  
  


Which meant that it  _had_ to be Dr. Drakken. That would explain the home-brewed frequency-spreading code, too. And doubtless, that was where the anonymous tip came from...

  
  


If Drakken knew of her whereabouts... then he'd probably figured out that there was something between his ex-hired-thief and current arch-nemesis, Kim Possible. He no doubt saw an opportunity to get them both out of the way, at least temporarily. Which all boiled down to: he was up to something...

  
  


“Could I see that a second, Dr. Director?” Shego asked innocently.

  
  


“No, you cannot” the Director answered, putting the button in her pocket, “You probably intend to destroy it, your way of showing Drakken that he's been found out. Really, the both of you need to learn to see beyond the present. Dr. Drakken thinks _you_ are where this button is, you see. We may be able to use that.”

  
  


“Fine” Kim said, still as impatient as ever, “you found the tracking button. So the drama. Can we get on with this now?”

  
  


“Very well, Kim” Dr. Director took her seat at the table again, “I asked you in here to find out what was going on between my best not-quite-agent and her former arch-enemy. I think I know part of the answer, now... But there are things I've... heard, that I want to know more about.” She faced Shego, “What did you mean by 'the Mistress thing'?”

  
  


Shego sighed. Was the Director guessing? Did she have outside information? Did she have an alias on the Villain Internet Relay Chat? Probably. Well, fine then... but it was going to be hard to say... she studied the color of her coffee.

  
  


“Last winter, Kim and I were fighting in Drakken's lair – the one made entirely of tooth-picks? Well, anyway, she kicked me into Dr. D's latest prototype Evil Device. He called it the Hypno-Ray. It zapped me point blank – and then of course melted. So now I have to do whatever Kim tells me to. So I call her my 'Mistress' sometimes. End of story.”

  
  


Without batting an eye, the Director looked over at Kim, still jiggling her foot impatiently, “Kim?”

  
  


“What she said is the way it is. I have nothing to add. Except... I'd really like to keep this a secret. But I guess that isn't gonna happen, is it...”

  
  


“We'll see. So, what sorts of things do you tell her to do? Does your control of her have anything to do with why the two of you are a couple-”

  
  


Kim lept to her feet again, “No! No, absolutely not! I don't tell her to do _anything, ever_! I don't believe in that... it's... it's just wrong! Ask her how I feel! That's why she trusts me with it. That's why she... we got together... sorta... I mean... oh...”

  
  


“Under the circumstances, I don't think I can rely on anything she might tell me, Kim. Can you understand that?”

  
  


“She gotcha there, Pumpkin” Shego said smiling. This was kind of humiliating... but kind of fun, too. Kim was squirming now, under the Doctor's microscope. It's always fascinating to watch a professional at work.

  
  


“Shut up, Shego” Kim shot back, and then remembered how dangerous that was, “I mean... oh, you know what I mean.”

  
  


The Doctor watched the expressions on their faces. “So it works as casually as that, does it? _Every_ thing you say, Kim?”

  
  


Kim stared at the floor, “Yeah. I have to be careful what I say, sometimes. Most of the time.”

  
  


“That must be quite a problem for you, Shego...”

  
  


“Not as much as you'd think. Like she said, I trust her.”

  
  


“I see. So I take it that...” the Director let the sentence fade as she realized that yes, it was obvious, the two girls had been playing sex games utilizing Kim's new power, and so it wasn't really necessary to ask what Shego had meant by “getting into the Mistress thing”. No need to embarrass them. Besides, that was the kind of anecdote that might come in handy, someday... If only it _were_ a secret... but she knew that at least one other person knew about Shego's condition, “And Dr. Drakken – at the very least – is aware of all this, is he?”

  
  


“Yeah” Kim and Shego both answered simultaneously. Shego studied her coffee again. She should never have told Drakken about it. Had she really thought he'd be able to fix it? Dr. Drakken was never able to “fix” _any_ thing... SO the stupid thing to do... The Director was right, she _did_ need to learn to think ahead.

  
  


There was a knock at the door, and the Director got up to answer while the girls watched. Then the Director stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. A minute later, she came back in, with the same guard at her side that had come for Kim previously.

  
  


Dr. Director looked at the two girls and tilted her head toward the guard, “She will see you back to your cell. It seems I have business to attend to, but we may be speaking again – and I mean today – so I'd  _appreciate_ it if the both of you would still be here when I do.” She turned and quickly walked away.

  
  


Kim and Shego looked at each other. What was that all about?

  
  


* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Cool!” Cin said appreciatively as Bonnie and her stood with the crowd around ReallyBig Corp.'s latest prototype piece of mining equipment. Cin liked hardware, and _that_ was some hardware!

  
  


Sixty feet long, twenty-five feet wide, a solid steel cylinder – with what looked like truly massive and sharp teeth in the front. It was the company's latest tunneler – able to dig, seal, and prepare for final paving an entire automotive-traffic lane in one pass. Self-contained, self-powered. Add a conveyor-belt to carry away the rubble behind it and you were good to go through granite at the break-neck speed of almost three-quarters of a mile a day. And the best part? You could rent it for a mere 1 million an hour (USD)! Hurry, before they're all gone!

  
  


The spokesman's spiel was boring, yes, but the machine itself was an engineering marvel, and Cin fairly drooled looking at it. Like a shark in the ocean, the OPT (One-Pass-Tunneler) was absolutely perfect for it's intended environment, and that made it a thing of beauty.

  
  


Bonnie frowned at Cin. Unimpressed with the engineering, and bored with the show, she kept thinking – and finally said, “It looks like a big steel dick. Didn't think you were into that...” she whispered into her girlfriend's ear.

  
  


Without removing her eyes from the machine, Cin only answered, “You are such a _girl_ , Bon. I swear... no wonder you're a cheerleader. I can't wait to get a look inside that thing!” she almost squealed, a little too loudly, “Uh, I mean, when they start the tours. I mean.” Obviously that wasn't at all what she meant, and she whispered to Bonnie as they turned to leave, “We're coming back here tonight, babe. Tour schmour, I'm gonna get in there and have a _real_ look at it!”

  
  


Once they were out of ear-shot of the crowd, heading toward the buffet brunch table, Bonnie took Cin's hand and said, “I kind of thought we were going to be... _busy_ tonight...” She felt in the pocket of her shorts to make sure the precious key to the VIP Cabin was still there.

  
  


Cin squeezed her hand and gave Bon a look that rather frightened her, in a good way, “I guess we'll just have to  _busy_ ourselves this afternoon, instead. 'Kay with you?”

  
  


This afternoon? Bonnie was a little taken aback by the idea. She was still a little nervous – anxious, excited, can't-wait-to-do-it – but nervous nonetheless at the thought of “going all the way” with another girl. She wasn't even too sure exactly what that meant. But, she'd thought she would have all day to get used to the idea, get close to Cin, get comfortable with... everything. And now Cin was saying “this afternoon”. Which, technically, started in about three hours.

  
  


Cin was so nonchalant about it, though! Like it was no big deal, like she did it all the time. And they'd already talked about it – they were both virgins, more or less. Cin had never been with a boy – she was totally Hard Butch from grade-school on - but had engaged in some serious heavy-petting with other girls (well, an other girl) a few times. Heavy enough to have lost her hymen. Whereas Bonnie had had intercourse with boys (well, a boy) a few times, but never so much as kissed a girl before Cin came along. _I guess “going all the way” with a girl is a lot closer to just “petting” than it is with boys. I guess..._ Bonnie thought. Then she thought of why that might not be so true and blushed under her tan.

  
  


To change the subject – sort of – Bonnie checked her wristwatch and said, “Twelve hours to Kigo. I hope they appreciate what we had to go through to set that all up.”

  
  


“From what I hear, Bon, I doubt it'll even cross their minds” Cin laughed. “Oh LOOK! Chocolate-dipped strawberries! 'Scuze me, I gotta go get my pack so I can load up on those -” she glanced at her perplexed girlfriend and winked, “you know, for later!”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


(later)

  
  


“So, uh, you got my present in there?” Bonnie motioned to Cin's backpack.

  
  


Cin looked at her slyly, “As a matter of fact, Bon-Bon, I was totally kidding about the velvet handcuffs. But since you showed an interest... my big brother says he'll bring me some next week when he comes home from college. Sorry 'bout that. Hope you didn't have your heart set or anything... I gotcha something else instead.” She pulled her pack around and reached inside, fishing out a black chrome-studded dog-collar, with a silver tag on which was engraved a single word in Gothic script: “Cinner”.

  
  


Bonnie's turned from “What the Hell?” just “What the Hey...” after a moment, and that gradually melted into just “Heyyyy...”.

  
  


“I get it – 'Cin'-er!” she said, and – since they were out of view of the rest of the party-goers now – threw her arms around the other girl and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Thanks. I love it!”

  
  


It took Cin a moment to get her breath back. She'd kissed girls before – she's swapped tongues with girls before... but never... never so _spontaneously_! Before, she'd done it because it was fun, kind of dirty, maybe a little “wrong” - in a good way – but she'd never been kissed just because the other girl simply _wanted_ to kiss her... It was different. Unlike those other kisses, it left her feeling... feminine. _Aware_ of her femininity, somehow. The others, she now realized, had only made her feel even more like a boy than usual.

  
  


Cin had an unconscious _Uh-oh_ feeling. Here they were heading  towards the door of the Visitor Cabin, each with stolen keys in their pockets, with the intending to have sex, and _NOW_ she was getting nervous? Because now it was becoming clear that this was _not_ going to be simply a further continuation of what she'd experienced before – it was going to be different... And different is always, _always_ scary.

  
  


“So, uhm, what'd ya get me, sweetheart?” Cin asked, wincing inwardly after the 'sweetheart'. She'd never used words like that before. She hadn't intended to this time, either... it just slipped out.

  
  


The new phrase hadn't escaped Bonnie's notice, either, but (somewhat to Cin's surprise), she didn't mention it. Actually, it was making her a little melty inside, that 'sweetheart'. She wouldn't mind hearing that more often. She fished for the small box in her purse, “Here.”

  
  


Cin unwrapped it with some trepidation – it was obviously a ring-box. Just how far did Bonnie think this was going to go? Cin was sixteen – hardly marrying age – not that they'd be allowed to anyway, but Bonnie was giving her a _ring_? Rings were a big deal. Uh-oh again. Flipping open the box, Cin looked a long time before taking it out. It was... delicate, feminine... no stones or anything, just a simple white-gold (plated) ring with rather pretty  filigree scroll-work on it. It was beautiful... but it wasn't exactly “Cin”...

  
  


“It's a toe-ring...” Bonnie said, wondering why her girlfriend was so perplexed - like she'd never seen a ring before.

  
  


“Oh!” Cin replied. A _toe_ ring! _That_ made a difference! Suddenly, the delicacy and  femininity of it seemed to fit – as long as it was on a toe, that is. Yeah. Toe ring! “Cool!” She finally took it out of the box, and looked at the inside of the ring for engraving, but there wasn't any. Cin was actually relieved at that, she was dreading 'All My Love' or some such thing, and was already trying to work out how she should react if she saw it. But no, they weren't up to that point yet. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief and surprised gratitude. Bonnie was really... quite good at this. Now Cin was embarrassed about _her_ gift – it seemed kind of jokey in comparison.

  
  


“Thank you, Bonnie” she said simply, in marked contrast to the emotional response she was beginning to feel – welling up from her stomach somewhere, it seemed. “I love it.”

  
  


But Bonnie had another surprise, “I... uh, got something else, too. Not exactly a present...”  She handed Cin a colorful rectangular package. “I... I just couldn't help thinking of you when I saw this...” she stammered as Cin looked at the box.

  
  


“Flavored Body Oil?” Cin stared at the bottle. Bonnie had bought... sex stuff? Bonnie? Never-kissed-a-girl-before _Bonnie_ was buying flavored body oil? Her mind did a third _Uh-oh_ , only an order of magnitude stronger, this time.

  
  


Meanwhile, Bonnie herself was burning with embarrassment, but then, she'd expected to, when this moment came, so that was okay. Kind of fun, really. “Yeah, well... check _which_ flavor, though.”

  
  


Cin read the bottle closely. Cinnamon. Of course. Several things about her girlfriend that Cin had kind of wondered about suddenly clicked into place.

  
  


“You're really a total perv, aren't ya?” Cin said, grinning.

  
  


“Only if you'll give me a chance!” she smiled back, and took out her key.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The interior of the VIP cabin was significantly more posh than the regular cabins at the company's retreat. Persian rugs on the floor, _real_ paintings on the wall, Tiffany lamps, granite counter-tops in the kitchen... everything was designed to tell the occupants _You Are Valuable_. It was like a bribe. The truth of the matter was, of course, _Your_ _(Business)_ _Is Valuable (To Us)_. It's how the game is played. The girls checked out every room, but were careful not to turn on any lights. There were three bedrooms in the “cabin”, but which of those was the “master bedroom” was pretty obvious.

  
  


Because it was huge. The king-sized bed seemed dwarfed by the room itself – there was room enough for three or four more king-sized beds, and there'd _still_ be enough room to move around. One wouldn't even have to more any furniture to get them in there. The  décor wasn't exactly to Bonnie's liking – the VIP's were expected to be male, of course – so everything was done in a style that could only be called “Bonanza”. Little Joe and Hoss would have felt right at home.

  
  


They sat on the bed, bouncing to test it's springiness, and each waited on the other to make the first move. To their mutual surprise, it was Bonnie.

  
  


“Hey, lemme put your present on ya! Ya got it?”

  
  


Of course she had it. Cin retrieved the ring – back in it's box – from her pack and began untying her black combat boots. “Summer casual” was _de_ _rigueur_ at the Company Picnic, but Cin wouldn't wear  skorts for anyone. She was more of a “blue-jeans for every occasion” type of girl. Barefoot, she laid back on the bed to make it easy for Bonnie to slip it on. But horror! It wouldn't quite go! A little lube would fix that, maybe some of that oil – or, no – a little spit... or, no...

  
  


Bonnie lifted Cin's right foot up to her face and slipped the next-to-the-big-toe completely into her mouth, sucking a little until she remembered she was _supposed_ to be getting it wet for the ring. It slipped on fine.

  
  


Cin's eyes were wide open during this event. Surprised, to say the least. And it felt so... _weird_! Good, but weird! Real good. But weird. _REAL_ good...

  
  


“There. Perfect!” Bonnie giggled and laid back on the bed next to Cin. Cin raised her foot up so she could see, and they both admired the jewelry. And the foot.

  
  


“Y'know, Bon... I had no idea you were so... kinky...”

  
  


“I told ya, just give me the chance!” Bonnie said, laughing now. Mentally, they both prepared for an afternoon of hot, kinky sex, running over the list of things they wanted to do.

  
  


Which was a complete waste of time, because it didn't go that way at all. The flavored oil was never opened. Nothing kinky happened. Instead of what they'd been preparing for – preparing for _months_ for...

  
  


They made love. Silently, tenderly, slowly. Uh-oh.

  
  


* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

“I still say it looks like a big steel dick” Bonnie said smugly, unimpressed as ever by the OPT.

  
  


“You'd know more about that than I would, sweetheart” Cin replied. 'Sweetheart' had become her pet phrase since early that evening, when they'd finally cleaned up and gone to dinner with their parents. They met again at 8 pm., and now, after five hours of trying to find ways to waste time (it wasn't hard), they were finally inside the machine. Once the door was silently sealed behind them, Cin flipped on the lights. At least _that_ was right where you would expect it to be.

  
  


As for the rest of the interior – it looked like a cross between a nuclear power-plant control room and a plumber's shop. There were important-looking display-panels and banks of complicated switches next to valves, pipes and levers, levers, levers everywhere, even hanging down from the ceiling. And _everything_ had a label.

  
  


Cin sat in the “Directional Control and Navigation Chair”, conveniently placed in front of the “Directional Control and Navigation Panel”. Dazed by the display of technology, Cin could only wonder what it would look once the OPT was powered up and “alive”.

  
  


“This is _SO_ awesome!” she gushed. Her hands ached to pull levers and push buttons.

  
  


“I bet you're a Trekkie, too” Bonnie teased, “'Main view screen, turn on!'” she giggled. Bonnie didn't know where the joke came from, she just knew it sounded corny, and it fit the surroundings.

  
  


But Cin did, and added “Take away every Zig! For great justice...” They both laughed.

  
  


Until they heard the tapping. Something was going on outside, very quietly. “We get signal” Cin whispered, in keeping with the mood, “Hide!”

  
  


It wasn't hard to find a place to hide - it was hard deciding which hiding-spot to pick. Cin dove behind the console she'd been sitting in front of, while Bonnie crouched down behind something that looked like it was probably a work-bench of some kind, except that it's surface was covered with evenly-spaced, threaded holes.

  
  


They waited.

  
  


And waited. Nothing was happening – the tapping and rustling noises had ended after only a few minutes, but no one had tried to open the door, let alone come inside. That was... weird... Cin stood up and walked out from behind the panel. Standing next to the chair, she whispered in the other girl's direction, “Do you think they – whoa!” She grabbed on to the chair's back to steady herself as the entire machine lurched to one side, then the other. It was a bit like being in a small boat. “What the hell?”

  
  


“Cin! Let's get outta here!” Bonnie whispered frantically, rushing to the only door. She began unsealing it. Cin came up behind her and flipped out the lights. When Bonnie cracked open the door, a rush of wind pushed her hair back. Had the weather changed? Was there a storm? What were those tiny lights on the ground?

  
  


“Oh... my... god...” she said once she'd figured it out.

  
  


Right behind her, her view blocked by Bonnie, Cin asked in a hushed but frantic voice, “What? Bon? What's going on?”

  
  


Bonnie pulled the door the rest of the way in, opening the hatch fully. The lake shown in the moonlight underneath them. At least two hundred feet underneath them. Once that fact registered with Cin, she grabbed onto Bonnie and hid her head against the other girl's back.

  
  


“Close it! Bon! Close it now!” Cin cried. Bonnie didn't take the time to ask Cin why she was so scared – she obviously was, so she just closed the door. But Cin was still clutching her back, and even trembling now.

  
  


“It's okay... it's okay Cin. Cindy. The door's closed. It's okay...”

  
  


Cin gradually let go of Bonnie and staggered back to her chair, where she sat with her head in her hands, trying to concentrate on breathing. Bonnie just watched her in shock. Cin? Rough, tough, tom-boy _Cin_ was afraid of heights? The idea was so opposed to everything she imagined about her that it took awhile to grasp. Then again, it was rough, tough tom-boy Cin that had just made passionate tender love with her only hours before... _Wow, 'don't judge a book by it's cover' is right! Who'd have guessed?_ Bonnie thought. She recovered herself and went over to try to comfort her girlfriend.

  
  


Cin clutched at the offered hand, digging her nails painfully into Bonnie's palm. “We... we're flying, aren't we...”

  
  


“Looks like.” What else was there to say? _Hey, look, Cin, this twenty-ton phallic freight-train is airborne! How do you suppose that happened?_

  
  


“I don't... like to fly...” Cin said still hunched over and looking at the floor.

  
  


That was pretty obvious, too. “It'll be okay Cin. This thing is expensive – they're not going to drop it.”

  
  


Cin looked up, “Who's not going to drop it?”

  
  


“Uhm... whoever is... well, taking it, I guess...”

  
  


“It's being stolen. And we're on it. This is bad, Bon. This is _seriously_ bad” Cin said looking into Bonnie's eyes for emphasis. Then the machine lurched again and she clutched Bonnie against herself, burying her head in the brunette's stomach.

  
  


Bonnie stroked Cin's short blonde hair, “Okay, baby, okay... it'll just be a short ride... They can't carry something this size very far...”

  
  


How wrong she was.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The same guard was coming down the row of cells – Kim and Shego could hear her by-now-recognizable footsteps. Kim's anger began to seethe just thinking about the woman and her “dyke” remark earlier.

  
  


“Dr. Director would like to see you. _Both_ of you” she said brusquely.

  
  


The prisoner – and her... consort – got up to follow the guard, and they walked in silence. For awhile.

  
  


“You uh... you don't like 'dykes', do ya?” Kim asked the leading question.

  
  


“Kim...” Shego tried to get her to back off, but Kim wouldn't be soothed.

  
  


“No. No, I wanna know, Shego. Everyone else has been – well, relatively – cool” she looked back at the guard in front of her, “But not you. What have I – or any other 'dyke'- ever done to you?”

  
  


The guard didn't answer.

  
  


“Hey, I'm -” Kim began, but Shego cut in.

  
  


“Kim, she's not going to say anything. They're trained not to - it's called 'Confrontation Avoidance'. It's how they deal with prisoners... We're not people to them – we can't be – no one could do that job if they thought of the prisoners as people just like them. Just drop it, Pumpkin, okay? Opinions are like ass-holes: everybody has one.”

  
  


That didn't sound much like the Shego Kim knew. “I never thought you'd be taking up for... You on her side?”

  
  


“It's not about sides. It's about getting along in the Big House, is all. You don't go banging your head against walls.”

  
  


“But -”

  
  


“Look, Kimmie... you're new to all this. Never spent any time in prison. And you've only been... a dyke... for what, a week? A lot of things aren't... friendly, to people like us, especially in here. Get used to it.”

  
  


“I don't _want_ to get used to it! It's not -”

  
  


“- fair” Shego said with a sigh.

  
  


They walked on in silence.

  
  


“Ah, Kim, Shego. Come in” Dr. Director said cheerfully. She sat behind the table in a different – but exactly the same in every way – interrogation room. “It looks like we have a job for Team Possible. And what I called you in here to ask you is this: where does Shego fit in?”

  
  


Kim's forehead wrinkled. The Director was certainly getting to the point  _this_ time – they'd barely walked in the door. The guard was still standing outside, in fact, waiting to be dismissed. And the question had been asked point-blank: where does Shego – Master Thief, habitual criminal, and wanted in eleven countries - fit into Kim's life? The very subject Kim had been doing her  _very_ best to avoid thinking about.

  
  


Kim's mind dropped back to what she knew: “Wh – What's the sitch?”

  
  


“More coffee, Shego? Black, wasn't it?” Dr. Director asked her.

  
  


Shego smiled. Doc was playing a game again, and even if Kim was her mark, it was fun to watch. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you” she said politely.

  
  


“Kim? Perhaps you'd prefer a soda? We have 7-Up, Pepsi -”

  
  


“WHAT I'D _PREFER_ IS TO GET BACK TO THE SITCH!” Kim screamed, losing control of herself. She glared venomously at the Director.

  
  


This is exactly what the Director had been trying to do: get Kim Possible to lose her temper. Now, the real question was, how long -

  
  


“I... I'm sorry, Dr. I guess I lost it there” Kim said, as quickly abashed as she'd been furious just before, “I don't... I don't know what... where she fits in, or what's going to happen to her – to us... but I guess I pretty much... Uh, sorry about the yelling...”

  
  


Okay, _that_ was fast... good show, Kim. “Well, Kim. I have to say I'm impressed. Now – _would_ you care for something to drink, and a little time to collect yourself, or do you want to get right into the meat of the matter...”

  
  


“I...” Kim started, and then thought about the question. She knew the Director well enough, and feared her enough, to know that when she asked a question, one would be wise to think before answering. Since she _was_ asking, the “sitch” must not be very time-sensitive. And Kim _obviously_ could use some “collecting herself” time. So, put those together, and -

  
  


“Dr. Pepper?”

  
  


The Director smiled. Smart girl. Fast learner, too... “Dr. Nehi close enough?”

  
  


“Please and thank-you.”

  
  


After the Director left the room, Shego said, “I _do_ believe you've passed some sort of test, Princess. Congratulations. I really do have the best girlfriend.” She tried to keep from chuckling.

  
  


Kim looked over at her, “Having a good time, Shego?”

  
  


“Gotta take your fun where you can find it sometimes, Fireball.” Now she did chuckle.

  
  


“Don't call me 'Fireball'. ”

  
  


Still grinning, Shego only said, “Yes, Mistress.”

  
  


“And don't... oh... I take it back” Kim said blushing a little. She couldn't stay mad at Shego when she kept smiling like that.

  
  


“What are you going to tell her? Where _do_ I fit in?”

  
  


“Oh, how should I know? Here we are both in jail, and you're asking me how everything's going to work out? I don't even know what's going to happen in the next few _hours_ , Shego! It's all so... so...”

  
  


“Complicated.”

  
  


Kim sighed, “Yeah.”

  
  


“Here you go, ladies” the Director walked in with the drinks, setting them down on the table. She draped her jacket over the chair back and sat down. Kim and Shego sat opposite her. “Now Kim: you realize Shego here is a wanted criminal. In thirteen countries -”

  
  


“I thought it was only eleven...” Shego cut in, not sure now whether the greater number was something to be proud of or not.

  
  


“Two of them split into independent republics, but you stayed on the books of both. Sort of a technicality... nonetheless, the count is thirteen now” the Director answered, “If it helps at all, you've made it into the '10 Most Wanted' lists of nine of them, up from six a year ago.”

  
  


“Oh. Uh... well... yeah. Thanks. I guess.” Shego replied, unsure whether she was being made fun of or not.

  
  


“My point is, Kim, I can't very well let her go on her own recognizance. If she leaves this facility, she will have to be under the guard of an agent of the GJ at all times. Preferably in restraints.” Dr. Director was looking intently at Kim now.

  
  


_What am I supposed to say?_ Kim thought,  _“Oh, good idea”? “Well, that sounds reasonable”? She's waiting for me to say something..._

  
  


The Director lifted her briefcase to the table and opened it. While she pretended to search for something, she said, “Have _you_ ever thought of becoming an Agent for Global Justice, Kim Possible?”

  
  


“Me? Well, I mean, sure, someday... but I'm sixteen. I'm in high school. I'm not even a Senior in high school! I can't -”

  
  


“But _I_ can, Kim. Oh, it's a paperwork nightmare, yes, but I can do it.” The Director looked over the top of her briefcase. “If you'd care to be so employed. We do have special exemptions for... talented people such as yourself. And I don't believe I'll have any trouble getting your application passed by the Board, either – you've done enough free-lance world-saving, it should sail right through.”

  
  


Kim slumped back in her chair. Things were coming at her hard and fast, and she hadn't been thinking her life was going to change _this_ drastically. Getting together with Shego had been one thing, Shego being arrested and jailed another, and now to become a full GJ agent? Paid and everything? Would she have to show up every morning in “business casual” attire, with a shoulder-holstered firearm under her jacket? Would she have a _desk_?

  
  


“So... exactly how would that work, Dr. Director? I mean, do I still go to school?”

  
  


“I'm afraid you'll have to, yes. It's the law in this country.”

  
  


“Do I come in to work every -” Kim went on with her list.

  
  


“Kim, listen. And don't ever tell anyone I said this, because I'll deny it. It would just be a technicality. Your life would go on as before – Shego will stay here when she's not with you. Not in a cell, but we'll set up an apartment here in the compound for her. Unless you make other arrangements, that is – but I'm afraid she will still have to be here while you're in school, regardless of where she... sleeps.” The Director paused for effect. “And she will join you on your missions. She will become part of Team Possible.”

  
  


Kim couldn't speak. Shego either. _This_ was an unexpected development... The Director took a single sheet of paper from her  briefcase (it had been on top the whole time) and casually pushed it over to the slumped heroine. “As the Responsible Agent, you will be accountable for Shego's actions at all times when she is outside this facility. She breaks the law – _any_ law – and she will be coming right back here. You will be fired and never asked to work here again – nor at any other law-enforcement agency, I should think. If you do this, that 'permanent record' they try to scare you with in school will become a reality. I'll give you some time to think about it” she said, pushing her chair back.

  
  


“Wait!” Kim cried. Things were going WAY too fast here, but she had to ask, “Why do you want a criminal on Team Possible? Shouldn't that be the _last_ thing you -”

  
  


“What Shego does is _your_ responsibility, should you accept it, Kim. I don't think we need to discuss how you might ensure she stays out of trouble. And I want her on your team for several reasons: she has skills on par with your own, and her plasma besides. The two of you – I should imagine – will work well together. Finally, as you say, she _is_ an experienced criminal. Who better to have on our side than someone who has been so involved with the _other_ side? Now, I'll leave you to... talk it over.”

  
  


The Director left and closed the door behind her. Kim and Shego just sat in silence.

  
  


For a long time.

  
  


“Well, Pumpkin? _I_ don't have a problem with it – sure beats sitting in a cell all day long. Might even be fun; at least I'll be back in the game, so to speak. Just on the other side.”

  
  


“And on a leash” Kim looked at her, “That doesn't bother you?”

  
  


“As long as it's you holding the other end of that leash, Kimmie, I think I can deal with it...”

  
  


“Yeah?” Kim had her doubts, “Okay, let's try something then: Shego? Do not steal anything ever again. There. How's that feel?”

  
  


Not so good, actually. Stealing was a part of Shego's life, part of what she _was_. Even after she'd quit Drakken, she still stole, even if it was only shop-lifting. Most of what she had in her apartment was stolen, and she was proud of it. Stealing made her feel alive, dirty, dangerous, superior... And Kim could – and _had_ just now, in fact – taken it away. With a word. With a wave of her hand. Shego's whole life...

  
  


But Kim wasn't finished, “You have to tell me the truth, right? _Have_ you stolen anything since... since we've been seeing each other?”

  
  


Shego swallowed, “Yes... But -”

  
  


“What? Tell me all the things you've stolen in the last... week.” Kim commanded. If she were going to do this – and a part of her really _really_ wanted to – then Shego might as well get a taste for... what it might be like.

  
  


Shego's forehead wrinkled. Why was Kim doing this to her? This wasn't... fun. This wasn't kinky. This was just... unfair... “Kim... I...”

  
  


“Tell me, Shego.”

  
  


The Thief closed her eyes, “Two hundred thousand dollars in bank notes from Commercial Federal Bank. A 1967 Corvette convertible. Four pairs of jeans, six tops, Red Wing hiking boots, Addidas Spring track shoes, two belts, three bottles of finger-nail polish and an emery board, and... and a chocolate-flavored yogurt. And the coffee mug Dr. Director gave me last time.”

  
  


“Wow” Kim was as impressed as she was chagrined.

  
  


“Kim... I... this is _SO_...” Shego stammered, unable to look at her – the humiliation was finally hitting home, “I'm _really_ not liking this, Kim!”

  
  


“Me neither. I... I'm sorry I had to - I mean, that I...” Kim couldn't get the words out. She _had_ meant to humiliate Shego... She had no idea how ingrained the stealing was to her, but now she was getting the idea – and it would have to stop. And Kim would have to stop her. And this was how. And she hated _hated HATED_ seeing Shego like this! And finally - if it was even possible - she HATED even more being the one who'd done it!

  
  


Shego had her face turned away from Kim, so her Mistress couldn't see the single tear running down her pale green cheek. It wasn't the humiliation, though. It wasn't frustration at being helpless. It wasn't anger. It was simply this: Shego knew that Kim was disappointed in her for all the stealing. In a lot of ways, Kim looked up to her, admired her – she knew that. But she didn't admire this. Stealing that cup yogurt, for god's sake... why had she even done that? Was that a theft to be proud of? Did that take great skill and cunning? No. She'd done it because she didn't feel like paying for it, that was all. Because she was a thief, lower-case. There was nothing glamorous in it.

  
  


“I'm sorry I stole all that stuff, Kim. I... I have... I'm...”

  
  


“Do you still want to do this?” Kim asked quietly.

  
  


It was a full minute before Shego could say, “Yes. If you do.”

  
  


“Even if I won't take back the part about not stealing anything?”

  
  


This time, Shego answered immediately, “Yeah.”

  
  


“You'll... return all that stuff? That you can, anyway?”

  
  


“I'll do whatever you want, Kim. And you don't have to make me, either.”

  
  


After another silent minute, Kim asked, “Why...”

  
  


“Because I want you to like me.”

  
  


“I love you, Shego...”

  
  


“I know. But I want you to like me, too.”

  
  


* * *

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Mon... Monique...” Ron stammered, unable to form a coherent thought while her hand was down his pants and inside his boxers, her fingers wrapping around his penis. He'd expected – was looking forward to – heavy petting on this date, but he hadn't thought it would get... _this_ heavy, or that _she_ would be the one doing the “petting”.

  
  


“Shhh, baby... shhhhhh” Monique whispered, “Just let it go, baby... listen to the music, watch the movie... it's okay. It's okay.” She began to squeeze.

  
  


The movie was ' _Rabid'_ , and it had been showing at the last drive-in theater in the state for the over three years. No one went to the drive-in to watch the movie anyway, so the owners didn't see much point in changing it. They'd never received so much as one complaint about the number of poor splices in the film, either. No one had noticed. Ron certainly didn't.

  
  


“Ah!... Mo – Mon!... Oh gaa - ...” he tried to whisper when he felt like screaming. He lifted off the seat, stretching his legs far under the dash as his orgasm gripped him suddenly, unexpectedly. His back arched again and again, his hips thrusting uncontrollably as his girlfriend kept rhythmically squeezing, squeezing... He tried to quiet himself by clenching his teeth, but it only made his noises sound even more animal-like than they would have been anyway.

  
  


It hadn't taken Monique long to get Ron off, but she'd expected that. She'd been with boys who hadn't lasted _this_ long – one time, she hadn't even touched the poor boy yet, before he came in his pants. So at least this time, she got to feel some cock, and that was nice. She liked cock. It was this next part that had to be handled carefully – sometimes the boy would be so panicked that the date would end _right now_ , and she really, really didn't want that to happen with Ron.

  
  


“There ya go, baby... was that good? Didja like it?” She pulled her hand out of his pants when she felt him soften and took a handkerchief from the pocket of her cheerleader sweater, wiping the semen from her hand as if she did this sort of thing all the time. It hadn't been _that_ many times – but then, it only took once to know how to prepare for it. She could smell his semen in the air – distinctive, no mistaking the smell of male sex. That was another thing she liked: semen. That magical, mysterious, pearly, not-quite-gel - the smallest drop of which could turn her into a mother, if it found it's way to the right place. Monique _really_ liked boys and everything that made them boys.

  
  


“Uh... Monique... sorry about... the, uh... mess...”

  
  


“Don't worry 'bout it, BF. It's a messy business” she giggled, “So, you're okay, right? Don't be embarrassed, Ron... really. I don't want you to feel... I didn't do it to embarrass you.” She took a wet-wipe from her purse and tore it open to get the stickiness off her hand. He watched her in wonder. She certainly came prepared, Monique did. Ron was astounded. He didn't doubt that she'd had more experience than he had – since basically his experience consisted of feeling a tit, _once_ before in his life – but this was almost... weird... 

  
  


“Well... it's... uh, why _did_ you do that, Mon? I mean... I'm glad you did an' all... Uh, thanks – god that sounds stupid – but really, why?” he asked in all earnestness. After all, _she_ couldn't have gotten much out of it.

  
  


Instead of answering, she offered him the handkerchief she'd used, “Here ya go honey. Wanna use this? I'll get ya a wet one ready, too” she said reaching into her purse again.

  
  


“Mon... Monique... what are you doing? Why did you do that? I mean, is that... is that it? Uh... Are you ready to go?” It was all he could think of. He had no idea what to say or do. It seemed like this _might_ mark the end of the date, and he waited for confirmation.

  
  


She finished wiping off her hands and got more comfortable in her seat before turning to look at him. This was the telling moment. How Ron reacted to what she was about to say would determine... a lot of things.

  
  


“Babe... Ron. I did that because you needed me to. Because if I hadn't, it would have... ruined things later on. No, that wasn't 'it'. 'It' is still to come” she giggled at the unintended pun, then forced herself to be serious - she could still screw this up, and if Ron were to think she were laughing at _him_ – well, that would probably be all she wrote, game over, take off your skates and go home. She looked at the movie screen and said, “I want to have sex with you tonight, Ron. I want you to fuck me.” She faced him again, “If I hadn't jerked you off just now, you'd never have lasted long enough to do that. Know what I'm sayin'?”

  
  


He could only stare as he mentally stammered;  _F- Fuck her? She wants me to... She wants ME to... She... She WANTS me to... fuck her? Ohmygod. Ohmygod... OH MY GOD!_

  
  


“Monique...” he said, but the look in her eyes stopped him cold. She was serious... this wasn't a joke. But, she was more than _just_ serious about it. He could see hunger in her dark, brown eyes, too, along with what could only be called “longing”. And, maybe - a little... what was the word... _vulnerability_... She needed him. Him! SHE needed HIM!

  
  


Now he looked away from her eyes and at the movie-screen, afraid he might wake up if he kept looking, reading what was there exposed. Monique had offered herself to him. She _wanted_ him... it was... it was like – ah, of course.

  
  


“I'm dreaming... I'm dreaming, aren't I, Mon-” A sharp pain pierced him in the ribs as she pinched him _hard_. “OW!! Damn! What was -” he froze when he instinctively looked over at her again.

  
  


Now the look in Monique's eyes had changed radically, and more than anything else, he was reminded of a painting he'd once seen of a jaguar about to pounce: hungry, sleek, predatory, sure of itself and of it's meal. This girl could eat him alive. Yet, she was faintly smiling, too.

  
  


And just like that, he knew he could do it. With her. _To_ her. Yes. Oh, yeah. He smiled faintly back and said, “Monique... _YOU_ are just...” But no single word would quite fit, would it... In fact, what _possible_ combination of words could possibly describe this... this incredible girl?

  
  


“Wonderful?” she suggested, now smiling broadly, white teeth gleaming in the dark against her chocolate face.

  
  


“At least” he said, reaching for the keys, “Boo-yah!”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Someone was knocking loudly at the door: “Mr. Stoppable? Open up, please, Mr. Stoppable, we have an emergency here.”

  
  


Ron's eyes widened to almost half-dollar size. He recognized the voice – that would be Capt. Krache, pilot of Team Possible's usual transportation. Who else would be banging on the hotel-room door claiming there was an emergency... he could deal with that, business as usual. What he couldn't quite deal with was the _timing_ – he had just penetrated Monique no more than three minutes ago, missionary-style. He was actually doing it – although this hadn't occurred to him until he'd been so rudely interrupted - he was actually fucking Monique! Moreover, he was getting the hang of it, too! And _NOW_ Capt. Krache was right outside the door? An emergency? Why hadn't they just beeped him on the – oh, right – because he'd turned it off. Maybe they'll go away...

  
  


“Mr. Stoppable? Are you in there?”

  
  


“Babe? What's going on? Who's out there?” Monique whispered into his ear, unlocking her legs from around his waist.

  
  


Ron's thoughts were too full of expletives to recount here, and as Monique's legs lowered onto the bed – he felt himself slipping out of her. Slipping _out of her_ , and he didn't want to be out of her. Not yet. Not for... not ever! _DAMMIT!!_ But, it was over now, he was out, and she was pulling on the sheets trying to cover up. _Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle!!_ he thought, forgetting momentarily his Jewish upbringing.

  
  


“It's the GJ, Mon... I guess there's a mission. I -”

  
  


“Mr. Stoppable?”

  
  


“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Uh... give us a few minutes?” he yelled through the door.

  
  


“Two minutes, Ron,” Krache yelled back, “on my mark... mark! Then we bust the door down.”

  
  


Typical of an ex-Marine officer. When Capt. Krache said 'two minutes', he meant _exactly_ two minutes. 'on my mark'. _Oy vey!_ Ron thought. _Fucking Oy vey!_

  
  


“Mon...” he said, getting up and looking around for his pants.

  
  


“I know. Hand me my bra over there? This is what I get for crushing on a Team Possible guy, I guess” she began to chuckle.

  
  


“It's not funny, Mon!” Ron said seriously, trying to arrange his still-erect penis so that it wouldn't be _so_ obvious in his pants. Would it _ever_ go down? 

  
  


“One minute down, Ron” Krache said ominously from outside.

  
  


Monique was just pulling up her skirt - sans panties (she couldn't find them). With her back to him, Ron paused pulling his sweater over his head to watch, too awed to think of a anything to say. When she turned around he was still staring, and she she grinned at him knowingly. “Getting your fill?” she teased, flipping the skirt up hentai-fashion.

  
  


“You... your panties...”

  
  


“Yeah, well, no time to look for 'em now. Better open the door, Hon, before Boss Man there breaks it down.”

  
  


He finally pulled the sweater down, pushed on his penis one final time as if to force it into hiding – to no avail - and opened the door.

  
  


“Ah, there you are. Twelve seconds to spare, too” Krache tried his best to maintain a professional demeanor, but the corners of his mouth were twitching, Ron noticed. “And this lovely young woman is -?”

  
  


“Monique” Ron replied. This was SO the awkwardness... he fell back on his upbringing and became freakishly polite, “Monique, this is Capt. Krache. Capt. Krache, Monique. Uh... Capt's Krache and Burns are probably here to take me somewhere – they usually provide transportation when Kim and I need it.”

  
  


“Krache and Burns?” Monique said incredulously.

  
  


“At your service, ma'am!” Burns said appearing beside Krache in the doorway. “We apologize for the interruption, but... well, like they say: we're from the government and we're here to help you” he joked, and then looked around the room. “Ah, I think someone left something in the sheets there” he pointed to a sliver of taxi-cab yellow showing in the wad of white hotel sheets. Monique casually pulled her thong out of the folds and put them in her purse, then quickly looked up to see – as she'd expected – that everyone was watching her. She smiled just enough to make even the grown men uncomfortable.

  
  


They filled Ron in on the “sitch” as they settled themselves into the helicopter – Monique too, as Ron had lost his car keys somehow (they were in the car). Someone – probably Drakken, but no one knew much for sure yet – had stolen a tunneling machine from ReallyBig Corp's company retreat. Kim and Shego were on their way to intercept it in the air and force it down, if possible. Ron was to be in the air and available as the “sitch” developed.

  
  


“I... I have to get Rufus!” Ron cried – he couldn't very well go on a mission without his pet naked mole-rat... who was going to chew through the ropes in which he would doubtless be tied up? Who would create the diversion? Who would -

  
  


“Sorry, Ron – no time. You're to be in the air ASAP. You'll have to get along without Rufus this time” Krache said sternly, and then turned toward the girl - “And we'll arrange to get you home from the airport, Miss... Monique. The rest of us will be going on by Gulfstream III from there. Sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am.”

  
  


“Stop calling me 'ma'am'” Monique said, somewhat peeved, “my Mom is a 'ma'am' - I'm a 'Miss'”.

  
  


“Yes ma'am. Uh – Miss” Capt. Krache said, firing up the turbine.

  
  


It quickly became too loud to hear anything in the helicopter's cabin, so Monique crossed her arms and glared at the backs of the government men – this was sort of cool, but it'd have been a hell of a lot cooler an hour later! Being Ron's “first time” had been really quite good for her. She especially liked the way the teenage boy handled her breasts: gently but firmly, but never so firmly as to hurt. The other two boys she'd slept with had treated them as their own personal squeeze-toys, apparently forgetting that they were, in fact, attached to her body. But not Ron. He'd been so... _appreciative_... or something. He was SO sweet! _Poor Ron_ , she thought, _he was just getting going, too. And to be stopped mid-stream like that..._ She looked over at her boyfriend, and saw him motioning to her to put on the head-set sitting on the panel in front of her. As she did so, she saw him fidget in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. _Awww, Ron, you're starting to get blue-balls, aren't cha... I'm sorry babe, but I can't do anything about it while I'm strapped into this damn chair. I wish I could. I REALLY wish I could, babe..._

  
  


Well, there wasn't anything to do now but wait to be dropped off. What a drag. This being Monique's first ride in a helicopter, she looked around the small cabin, but the most interesting thing was right in front of her. A military Communications panel. She checked it out closely. There were the usual Mode Selector for AM, FM, SSB and DSB – all things she was familiar with from her father's HAM radio in the garage... but look! They had a Digital Sound Processor... cool! She'd been trying to get her father to get a cheap one of those for ages, and here was the real deal, the military-spec, Way-Too-Much-Money type that _no one_ could afford! Her fingers itched.

  
  


“Uh, Mon... I wouldn't touch anything, if I were you” Ron suggested, watching her.

  
  


She ignored him, because something had caught her attention: the CTSS box was blinking. Someone (who knew the Code-Tone for that particular Selective Squelch receiver) was trying to make contact! _What the hell, what're they gonna do, throw me in jail? Wasn't MY idea to be here in the first place!_ she thought, and unjacked her headset from the armrest of her chair, plugging it into the Comm Panel. But she heard nothing. _Lesse... volume... mute – that's off, good – we'll leave the freq dial alone for now... Ah! The signal-to-noise meter! Okay, so there IS a signal, why don't I – wait, where's squelch? Ah, okay..._ Turning the squelch down, she could hear _something_ , it sounded like someone talking into a tin-can, and underwater. _Right. I'm in AM, right? Let's try SSB... okay, other SSB... DSB?... FM?_ When she flipped the Mode knob to FM the static disappeared and she could hear clearly - _“dammit, Ron, turn on the damn Comm panel! Can't you see the blinking lights? I KNEW I should have got him some radio lessons! Now he's-”_

  
  


“Uh, hello? I'm not Ron, but I can see him from here... can you hear me? You're 20 over 40 here” Monique said, checking the SNR meter as she did so to make sure she was getting out.

  
  


“ _You... you can SEE Ron? Who is this? How'd you get on this freq? Where'd you get the scrambler code?”_

  
  


“My name is Monique – AR4BD, in the HAM world – and yeah, I'm in a helicopter, Ron's on the other side. Who's this?”

  
  


Before whoever it was could answer, another voice broke in, feminine and familiar, _“Wade? Did you get in touch with them yet? I don't like being out here without someone watching my back...”_

  
  


And then another voice, also feminine - not quite as familiar, but unmistakable nonetheless, _“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”_

  
  


“ _Shego... just keep your eye on the road, please? I'm trying to get ahold of Wade.”_

  
  


“ _Wade here. Yeah Kim, looks like Monique is in the chopper with Ron, headed for the airport. Dr. Director says they'll transfer to something faster there.”_

  
  


“ _Monique?”_ Kim's voice asked.

  
  


“ _Monique?”_ as did Shego's.

  
  


“Monique” Monique cut in, “Hi Kim, Shego! And 'Wade', whoever you are. Fancy meeting you here. Like he said, we're on our way to Middleton airport. ETA probably ten minutes. Supposed to transfer to something called a Golf Scream or something...”

  
  


“ _That'd be 'Gulfstream', Mon. Turbo-jet. Fast, but not as fast as me! Yee-haw! Mach 3!”_ Shego was obviously enjoying whatever it was she was flying.

  
  


“ _Shego...”_

  
  


“ _Eyes on the road, I know. Intercept in seven, by the way.”_

  
  


“ _Monique – tell him to hurry up, will ya? I didn't want to leave without him, but the Director insisted. Looks like we'll catch up to the Bad Guys someone over the Rockies.”_

  
  


“ _Just north of Estes Park, specifically”_ Wade chimed in , _“Pretty place.”_

  
  


“ _You've been there?”_ Kim asked.

  
  


“ _Of course not! Web-cams. I've never been out of Middleton! Anyway, Monique - who else is there? Who's running the Comm panel?”_

  
  


“Just me and Ron and the two pilots. Crash and Burns? I can't believe people named -”

  
  


“ _You figured out a GJ Comm panel by yourself?”_ Wade asked with disbelief.

  
  


“Well... I _do_ have an extra-class HAM license y'know. Radio is radio.”

  
  


There was a moment of stunned silence before Shego broke in,  _“Kinda nerdy there, Mon... five minutes, Pumpkin. Visual in three. After-burners off. Aww...”_

  
  


“Tell anyone and I'll kill you.”

  
  


“ _Keep in touch, Monique. Give us a call when you get back in the air. Wade? It just disappeared off our radar...”_ Kim said, sounding worried.

  
  


“ _Yeah, I see that. Probably hiding behind a mountain – let me check the infra-red satellites.”_

  
  


* * *

 


	13. Chapter 13

Shego just could not believe her luck! A G-3 bomber! The only plane fueled up and ready to go was a super-sonic, cutting-edge G-3 bomber! How cool was that? This Good Guy business might not be so bad after all, if they kept giving her toys like _this_ to play with... swing-wings, composite fuselage, twin-engines with after-burners... it was pretty much just like an F-16 fighter on steroids. _LOTS_ of steroids – the thing was _huge_! It didn't look so big from a distance, because you expected a fighter to be fairly small – basically an engine with wings and a cockpit – but as you got closer and closer, you realized that it was _significantly_ bigger than any fighter aircraft.

  
  


And handling? It was the most exhilarating thing she'd ever flown... _way_ more nimble than even her pet acrobatic bi-plane. It even _looked_ sexy, like a mean sort of dragonfly, or King of the  Mosquitoes. And don't even talk about fast... when she'd lit off the after-burners, Shego's nipples had actually gotten hard. This was Da Gear, here, baby... _I'd have jumped the fence a long time ago if they'd offered me one of these_ she thought.

  
  


Of course, a lot of that “gear” she had no idea how to use: ECM pods and phased-array radar, a host of air-to-ground sensors that pretty much covered the EM spectrum from microwave to gamma-ray and everything in between. A computer that wanted to fly the damn plane for her, and kept complaining about the way she was doing it – blinking warnings and suggesting what it apparently thought were appropriate air-speeds. But that could be ignored. The first button she'd touched had been marked “Manual Override”...

  
  


What it _didn't_ have was offensive weapons.  Oh well, can't win 'em all. She did wonder, though, just what she was supposed to _do_ once she met up with the Bad Guys... stick her arm out the window and wave them over? Didn't seem well thought-out in that little detail.

  
  


“Kim? I got nothing here... which way do I go?”

  
  


“ _Uh... Wade? Anything?”_ Kim asked.

  
  


“ _Yeah, I think I saw an exhaust bloom... not sure though. Heading 324. And... I think he's gone down to the deck, too – none of the ATC radars are picking him up anymore_. _He's trying to lose you in the mountains, uhm... I think.”_

  
  


“Well doy... Okay, to the ground we go, 324. You'd think something that big would be hard to hide.” She pushed the stick down hard and dove straight down, throwing in a barrel-roll for the hell of it.

  
  


“ _Shego... stop showing off... you're making me sick here...”_

  
  


“Sorry Pumpkin. Seriously, though, I have _got_ to get me one of these!” she chuckled into her  helmet.

  
  


“ _Know what you mean Kim... I'm getting queasy just watching the nose-camera video”_ Wade added.

  
  


“Buncha whiners. Okay, six-hundred feet. Uh... any power lines I should know about there, Kim?”

  
  


“ _Not on my map. I'm sure the computer will warn us if we're heading for any.”_

  
  


“One thing I learned working for Dr. D: do NOT put your trust in machines. They tend to let ya down at the _worst_ possible times...”

  
  


“ _Hey folks – Monique here. We're back in the air headed your way.”_

  
  


“In the Golf Scream?” Shego joked.

  
  


“ _Whatever, Shego. Anyway, at your speed and heading, Burns – I still can't get over those names – says we'll meet up in about forty-five minutes.”_

  
  


“ _Ok Mon, good to have ya aboard”_ Kim said, _“How's Ron and Rufus doing?”_

  
  


“ _No time to get Rufus – Ron is inventorying his new utility belt, and trying to figure out the new mobile comm headset the Director gave him. Poor guy...”_

  
  


“ _Why 'poor guy'?”_ Kim and Shego both asked at the same time.

  
  


Monique hadn't really meant to say that.  _“Oh. Uh... nothing. He's okay. Uh... I'll get with you guys when we're closer, okay?”_

  
  


“ _Right Mon. Wade? Are we still closing?”_ Kim was sounding worried again. Losing all sight of your enemy when you were this close could only be a Bad Thing.

  
  


“ _Far as I know – wait. There's another IR bloom. Ah, I get it – I can only see where he's at when he turns. Probably exposes one of his exhaust ports to the sky. Thing is, there's no way to tell WHICH WAY he's turning... but the map kinda helps out there. Shego – heading 285... uhm... make it 280, we'll try to cut him off at the pass.”_

  
  


“Well awright then, pardner. Head 'em up! Move 'em out!” Shego drawled in her best John Wayne voice.

  
  


Kim couldn't help but smile,  _“Are you having fun sweetheart?”_

  
  


“Pumpkin... I'm having a fuckin' BLAST!”

  
  


“ _Language, Shego”_ Wade complained, _“There are children present, y'know. Me.”_

  
  


“Bite me Wade” Shego laughed.

  
  


“ _Shego - 325. Sorry 'bout that, he's bein' tricky.”_

  
  


“325, aye. When should we get visual?”

  
  


“ _Uhm... maybe three minutes?”_

  
  


But three minutes passed and they were still playing hide-and-seek in the mountains. Whoever it was, they were clever. And well-prepared, too. The plane – or helicopter, whatever it was that had lifted the OPT from it's truck-bed – was camouflaged so that the visual satellites couldn't find it. The engine exhausts were also hidden from the sky, probably underneath the wings (assuming it was a plane). Wade tried to guess his probable path several times and always guessed wrong. Ten minutes later they were _still_ within three minutes of visual contact.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Cool lookin' stuff ya got there, babe. What's that thing?” Monique asked. In the quiet of the Gulfstream cabin, normal conversation was possible.

  
  


“I _think_ it's cutting torch. Either that or a chapstick. I'm kind of afraid to find out...” Ron replied, his forehead wrinkled in careful concentration. Or was that pain?...

  
  


“Well, this may not be the best time to find out, hon. Uh, Ron? Uhm... well... do they hurt?” she asked, knowing that she'd have to explain what “they” were next.

  
  


He looked up at her, slipping the torch – or chapstick – back into it's pouch. They _did_ hurt, as a matter of fact. They hurt very much. But... surely she wouldn't know -

  
  


“Does what hurt?”

  
  


“Your balls, Ron. I knew you'd make me say it. Look, I know what happens when guys get... interrupted like that. So... do they?”

  
  


He blushed. Even _he_ hadn't known why his testicles were hurting... Monique knew a _lot_ about boys, it seemed. “Uh... yeah. Yeah, they do. So... how long it's going to last, do you think?”

  
  


She wasn't sure about that, but had an idea - “Not much longer babe. Take it out.”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“You heard me. Now hurry, we only got about half an hour, max.” She began unbuckling her safety-belt. Her new head-set – just like Ron's – was wireless, so she just left it on and got up.

  
  


“Monique...”

  
  


“Take it out, Ron, or I will. And fold those seat-arms up. And lay the seat back. I'll handle it.” She couldn't help but chuckle at yet another pun.

  
  


“Well... okay...” He was thinking he was in for another hand-job. He was wrong.

  
  


She sat next to him and began fondling his penis to get it hard. It wasn't so easy – Ron was still blushing and fidgeting, opening his eyes from time to time to make sure neither of the pilots were coming into the cabin to go to the bathroom or anything. She tried to soothe him - “I'll keep an eye on the cockpit, babe. Just relax. Try to think about what it was like before...”

  
  


Yes. Before. A whole, actual, naked girl to play with... one who _wanted_ to be played with. He'd been rather tentative in his foreplay at first, expecting _Stop that!_ any second , but it never came. No matter what he did. No matter what he touched. No matter what he kissed... He thought of her breasts. Breasts were... well, they weren't like what he'd expected. They were soft and resilient. they reminded him of French bread dough in the final stages of kneading, when you check it by pressing you thumb in a little to see if it pops back up. And her nipples... black against the brown, just like her lips. He remembered what it had been like to suck on those nipples... at first hard, but then soft in his mouth...

  
  


Suddenly – it seemed to him - he felt Monique get out of the seat beside him. Fully erect now, he was wishing she would just keep doing what she was doing – she was really quite good at it. It was so different, having someone _else_ do it _to you_... She smiled down at him as he wondered what she was up to, then she turned around and lifted her skirt.

  
  


“Slide down a little, babe.”

  
  


She began to squat over his lap, reaching behind herself to find him and guide him into her. Her dress fell back down onto his belly, hiding what was going on, much to Ron's dismay, but then he felt it. Just like before, only this time, Monique was lowering herself onto him deliciously slowly, and he could feel her warm embrace inch by inch enveloping his penis. Finally she was sitting on his lap, and he was completely within her, further than he had been before, even. It was... it was good... then he felt something alarming. He felt her vagina swallowing him like a throat.  That was... they could do that? That was...

  
  


Before he could find the right words in his mind, she began rocking forward and back, lifting herself off of him only about an inch or two, at most, before sliding back down. He reached under her dress to put his hands on her hips. His eyes stared at the jet-black hair falling down her back, watching her pony-tail swing as she alternately threw her head back and then forward again. He remembered what she looked like in her yellow bra and panties... and when she'd turned around, showing him her full round bottom. Eyes still open but not seeing, he remembered when she'd taken off her bra in front of him. Those black nipples... She'd pinched one to tease him, making the nipple stand at attention...

“Monique...” he whispered, not thinking she'd be able to hear.

  
  


“H-hold on... babe... ho... hold... on...” she panted back to him. Her rocking was taking on a frenzied aspect, and in a flash of insight, he realized that she was no longer doing this for him, but for herself. He tried to “hold on”. He really did.

  
  


But he couldn't. His toes curled and his hips lifted the two of them completely off the seat, up and down, while he came inside her. He could feel his semen spurting through his penis – it seemed like a lot, like a _whole_ lot... like no orgasm he'd ever had by himself. The feeling of _release_ was overpowering, and he groaned loudly through his clenched teeth. He didn't know how much later it was, but when his orgasm released his mind from its grip, he heard Monique -

  
  


“R – Ron! Don – Don't! – Don't... – Babe! – St – Ss -”

  
  


The thrusting and throbbing of his penis as he came inside her, the extra wetness of his semen lubricating her, it's heat – all combined to send Monique over the top only a little later. As her head swung back and forth and side to side, part of the headset she was still wearing struck her shoulder, and a little red light appeared on the end of the microphone next to her cheek. Ron's orgasm was pretty much over, but he had the presence of mind remaining to see that she was just beginning hers, and made a conscious effort to keep thrusting with his hips as if he were still coming himself.

  
  


It worked. “Ah!” was all Monique got out.

  
  


Through his hands, his hips, his penis he felt a something like a ripple run through her whole body, like a shiver but far stronger, and her desperate panting stopped entirely, replace with a high-pitched whining sound – a sound as if she were actually in quite a bit of pain and trying to keep from screaming. Maybe that wasn't so far from the truth. Another shiver rippled through her, soon followed by another, and all that time Monique never breathed, as far as he could tell. He felt a final shiver – the most powerful of all, and Monique's breath finally exploded out of her lungs and she began gasping hoarsely for breath. He felt her body relax.

  
  


Only now did her realize that his hands were holding her hips in a death-grip, his fingers digging deeply into her flesh. He let go of her hips and relaxed in the seat, letting her weight rest on top of him.

  
  


_Okay, THAT was a new thing_ Monique thought, coming to her senses but still trying to catch her breath. She'd never come like that before, either. Perhaps it was the feel of his bare penis within her, or his semen – her previous sexual encounters had always involved condoms, as had her earlier attempt with Ron, for that matter. Maybe that was why. It was _so_ different without the rubber! In ways she couldn't have explained. And she was still protected; doubly so in fact. The Pill _and_ a sponge – she'd only put the condom on Ron before because it had become so ingrained in her mind from hearing it over and over and over, from absolutely every source imaginable – even TV and movies – that it simply hadn't occurred to her that it was probably overkill in this case. And as far as STDs... well, this was Ron Stoppable we're talking about here. Gimme a break. And frankly... well hell, it was worth it regardless.

  
  


But it also occurred to her: it _was_ Ron she was thinking about. A lot of things had been different. In fact, her whole _attitude_ about having sex with him had been different. It wasn't to see what it'd be like, it wasn't for kicks – although it certainly was one – and it wasn't just for his sake, either. For the first time, she had really, really _wanted_ to get fucked by someone. By Ron.

  
  


Cool!

  
  


But wait... Was someone calling for her over the comm-link?

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“ _There it is!”_ Wade shouted over the radio, unnecessarily loud.

  
  


“Christ, Wade... blow our ears out next time!” Shego complained, “Where? I don't see anything...”

  
  


“ _Use your nose-camera video – I'm enhancing it to show relative motion... he's at eight o'clock, bearing 45. Looks like some sort of cargo plane... big sucker, too. Six engines.”_

  
  


“ _I see it Shego. The digger is hanging under it, probably by cable. He's turning left to go around that mountain up ahead.”_ Unlike Shego, Kim's hands were free to fiddle with the display controls. _“I'm changing your radar screen to show it. See 'im?”_

  
  


“Yeah, I got 'im. So I'd like to ask all you Not-So-Secret-Agent types a question: what do we do now?”

  
  


“ _Uhm...”_ Kim said.

  
  


“ _Uhm...”_ Wade added.

  
  


“ _Ah!”_ Monique said.

  
  


“ _You have an idea Mon?”_ Kim asked. Monique sounded kind of strange...

  
  


“ _Does anyone else hear that hum?”_ Wade asked, _“I think I've got some interference here...”_

  
  


“ _Yeah... kind of a high-pitched whining noise? Like an animal in pain or something? I hear that. Shego?”_

  
  


“Yeah yeah, I hear the whine, and I don't care. I have the bad-guys in sight and I'm un-armed and I want to know what the plan was when you Brainiacs sent us up here!”

  
  


“ _Uhm... Dr. Director says you should force him down”_ Wade said a little sheepishly.

  
  


“How does Dr. Director suggest I do that?”

  
  


“ _Well... get on the air-to-air band and tell them to?”_

  
  


After a moment of silence – during which she was kind of hoping Wade would say he was only joking – Shego snapped back, “You're kidding me. Get on the horn and _ASK_ them to please pull over? THAT's the PLAN?!”

  
  


“ _Well, actually, Shego... you're not unarmed. The Director just didn't want to tell you about the missiles -”_

  
  


“Because I'm a bad-guy myself, yeah, I can imagine. Fine. Kim? You know how to lock on and fire, I'm guessing?”

  
  


“ _It doesn't matter. You can't fire anyway. Word is that Bonnie Rockwaller and someone named Cindy Saychenal were kidnapped. They were found missing – found missing? - well, that's what it says - shortly after the OPT was stolen.”_

  
  


“Swell, civilians aboard. Just great... Okay, Monique, you're up! What was _your_ idea? I'm willing to listen to just about anything at this point.”

  
  


Monique didn't answer.

  
  


“Hello? Monique? Do you read me? Monique?”

  
  


“ _Oh! Uh... What?”_

  
  


“I said, what was your idea... Are you okay? You sound funny...”

  
  


“ _Fine! I'm just... uhm... fine. Uh, sorry, I wasn't... I mean, no ideas here...”_

  
  


“ _Wade here – Dr. Director says just stay with 'em and do what you can. You have enough fuel to fly to Japan and back, so he can't get away. About all you can do is try to make contact, see if you can find out who we're dealing with, and see if the two girls are okay. Oh, hold on... Strike that – they may not know they even have Bon and Cindy with them, so you're not to let whoever it is know. Roger?”_

  
  


“I prefer 'aye'. Aye. Alrighty then, you vile... uh, villains, let's get to know each other better.” Shego switched her comm output to the air-to-air transceiver, “Helloooo bad guys! On behalf of Global Justice, Team Possible, and all of us here behind you, I'd like to ask you to land at the next opportunity. I'd also like to point out that I'm carrying a full load-out of weapons, just so we understand each other. Do you read, bad-guys?”

  
  


She didn't really expect an answer, and she didn't get one. She switched her comm back to its previous position.

  
  


“So much for talking them down. You wanna drive for awhile, Kim? This may get boring.”

  
  


“ _Can we get closer Shego?”_ Kim asked her, _“I can't quite make out what kind of aircraft that is.”_

  
  


“Oh, we can get close enough to throw rocks at 'em if ya want! In fact, it's kind of hard to slow this thing _down_ enough to stay with 'em... but you want a closer look? Can do!”

  
  


“ _I wish... I mean, can't you take this a little more seriously?”_ Kim asked.

  
  


“I'll be serious when the situation demands. And I don't think it's going to 'demand' for awhile yet. But ok, for you? I'll try to contain myself. Here we go...”

  
  


While Shego opened the throttles, Kim studied her nose-camera images. It was a strange aircraft, for sure. Three engines on each top-mounted wing, and there was something strange about the fuselage where the wing attached.

  
  


“ _I don't believe it. It's a tilt-wing. Wade, does ANYONE make a tilt-wing jet-powered airplane?”_

  
  


“ _Nope Kim, that'd be a new one. Well, I guess we can safely say it's someone with money to burn, then. I don't suppose there are any tail-numbers...”_

  
  


“ _Nope. No markings at all. But – hold on... Things are blinking here. Shego-”_

  
  


“No time to talk Pump... – shit!”

  
  


The blinking lights was the bomber's computer telling them that a targeting radar had locked on to them, and by the time Shego could shout her expletive, two dozen  _smud!_ sounds were jarring their bones, as if someone were pounding on their plane with REALLY big sledge-hammers. Kim looked back at the wings and saw gaping holes where there used to be smooth composite, fuel pouring out of them. The two cockpits were alive and  cacophonous with blinking lights, buzzing buzzers, and flashing words on the three flat-panel screens. All hell was breaking loose. 

  
  


“ _We're hit! We're hit!”_ Kim shouted over all the noises. She wasn't panicked, though – she'd only repeated herself to ensure her listeners understood the seriousness of the situation. _“Engine one out. Fuel going. Hydraulics going. Control surfaces damaged – don't know how bad. Shego? How's it going up there?”_

  
  


“Not good. Dead stick. One thousand feet with a dead stick! I can't TELL you how bad that is... The remaining engine seems okay – for as long as the fuel lasts. Switching to the belly-tank – that'll give us a few more minutes. Uhm... you don't remember seeing any parachutes when we came in, didja?”

  
  


“ _Nope. I brought mine, though... so we have one...”_ Kim replied, her mind suddenly whirling with this new problem. Two of them – one parachute. And no time.

  
  


“Well, I'd be getting it on if I were you, Princess! And in a hurry, at that!”

  
  


“ _Shego... you put it on.”_

  
  


“What?” She couldn't have heard that right.

  
  


“ _You put it on. I'll fly. Not much flying to be done anyway, dead-stick. It's in my pack next to the ladder.”_

  
  


“Kim... you cant -”

  
  


“ _I am. It... it's an order, Shego... Do it now.”_

  
  


Kim could see Shego's motions as she unbuckled her harness and stepped down into the compartment under them. She never did look back at Kim.

  
  


“This... this is STUPID Kim! Why... what... you have no idea what to do to crash-land this plane! There are procedures! Dump the fuel, for starters! What... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!” Shego screamed.

  
  


“ _I... I'm sorry...”_

  
  


“FUCK 'SORRY'!! IT'S _STUPID_!! KIM! KIM DON'T -”

  
  


“ _I'm opening the hatch now. Shego... I know it's stupid, I can't help it. I -”_

  
  


In a suddenly calm – frighteningly calm, in fact – voice, Shego said, “I don't think I can forgive you for this, Kim. I mean it. If you make me jump-”

  
  


“ _Hatch shows green... I love you. Go. Now.”_

  
  


Shego climbed down the ladder in the 250mph wind and let go, never saying another word.

  
  


* * *

 


	14. Chapter 14

Parachuting from one thousand feet is not a trivial matter. Two thousand feet more, and it would have been like any static-line sport jump... but from one thousand, and with a rip-cord – half of that would be used up just building up enough velocity to pull out and inflate the 'chute. Like all parachute packs, Kim's included a back-up 'chute as well... but from this height, that little safety-factor was rendered useless. By the time she'd tried to pop the main, seen that it hadn't worked for some reason, and _then_ popped the reserve – way, way too late. From this altitude, she had just the one chance. _Best go for the reserve first – at least it's probably spring-loaded. And packed by a licensed parachute packer. Not that I don't trust... which I don't_ She thought bitterly.

  
  


She pulled the rip-cord and looked up to watch the simple, white, rather small, but  indescribably beautiful - under the  circumstances \- parachute catch the wind and billow out to its full 22-foot diameter. She grabbed the steering loops now hanging over her head. Backup 'chutes were round, not square, and the “steering” was something of a joke; but it made her feel better to think she  _might_ be able to avoid being impaled by a tree. Considering that, and looking at the tree-tops now only a hundred feet below, she crossed her ankles. No use presenting  _too_ much cross-section to the limbs and branches. Good thing they were fir and spruce – they looked soft - but Shego knew better than that.

  
  


Another thing about emergency parachutes: they're only big enough to save your life – not to provide a comfortably soft landing. As she came down below tree-top level, she crossed her arms over her chest, and pulled her knees up to her face, trying to become a ball, and suddenly becoming acutely aware of how much hair must be hanging out of her helmet. She briefly cursed her vanity about that. Her world grew loud and violent very quickly as she smashed through – and then into - the trees.

  
  


It was all over in a few seconds. From the sounds of branches whipping and snapping, from having her body beaten, poked at, and slapped - to peace, quiet, and church-like stillness in a matter of a moment. She tried to think:

  
  


_I've stopped falling. Nothing hurts... well, too much, but that doesn't mean anything._ She lifted her head carefully and looked about. Branches everywhere, including down. She couldn't see the ground. She inventoried her arms and legs one by one. Nothing seemed to be broken. As far as bleeding, that would have to wait. She'd have to get out of this tree first. There were no really substantial limbs within reach, so she crossed her legs, balled up again, and pulled the cut-away handle on her harness.

  
  


Another moment of noise and violence, with an _oomph!!_ she was on the ground, finally, having fallen twenty feet through the tree. _THAT hurt! Holy Mother of God, did that HURT!_

  
  


Shego crawled painfully out to a patch of open ground and pulled her helmet off. The wind was blowing gently, sighing through the evergreen branches, birds were singing, the noonday sun was shining, and all was idyllic. It was astoundingly strange, how that could be. She inventoried herself again. Still nothing broken, although her back was stinging painfully all the way down to her thighs. Well, nothing to do about that.

  
  


Now what? She thought about what had just happened. The G-3 Bomber. She'd been flying a G-3 supersonic bomber, with Kim as -

  
  


_KIM!!_ Now it was all coming back. What had been done to her... what Kim had made her do – _GOD DAMMIT!! That... that BITCH!! That STUPID, STUPID... fucking TEENAGE.... FUCK!! How DARE she! HOW DARE SHE..._ This went on for a full minute, much of it out loud too. Had Shego been able to control herself, she would've forcibly strapped the parachute onto Kim and thrown her out of that airplane, to hell with “no time”. At least Shego knew what to do in a crash-landing. She would have had a better chance at survival than some high school girl with what – six hours in a Cessna 182? That was a G-3! $380 million worth of airplane! Fully fueled! Airspeed 250 mph at it's almost-slowest! Dead stick! One thousand feet! In the mountains! Granted, ANY pilot's chances of surviving a crash under those conditions was pretty small, but at least she had -

  
  


She had...

  
  


ANY pilot's chances of surviving were pretty small...

  
  


“...”

  
  


“ _K-I-I-I-I-M!!!_ ” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Mayday mayday mayday. This is... uh... -” _God, I don't even know my own tail-number... what an idiot!... I should -_

  
  


“ _We know who you are, Kim, where you are, and what's happened”_ Monique broke in, _“Just fly the plane, GF.”_

  
  


That was sort of the problem: there wasn't much she could do. The control surfaces weren't responding to the stick, the one engine – it's status on her left-hand flat-panel – was obviously not going to last much longer, judging by the sheer number of red, blinking warnings flashing by on it... She wished Shego were there, which just made her aware of her incredible stupidity again. What was it Shego had said? Something about dumping fuel? Was there a button for that? No... no, there were _four_ buttons for that. Okay, then... - but she remembered, Shego had said something about switching to the belly tank, too. Maybe she shouldn't dump that one. After all, she _was_ at least staying in the air, for now, which was better than the alternative. She lifted the red covers and pushed three of the buttons – one for each wing, one for the tail-tank. Good.

  
  


Now what? The world below was all trees and hills – absolutely no place for an emergency landing. _Depending on your definition of “emergency”_ she thought. _WHY did I make her take the parachute? I mean, okay, because I just_ _couldn't_ _face the prospect of wondering if she... of going through the rest of my life... so now she has to wonder about ME! Stupid call, Kim... you selfish, stupid..._

  
  


In a dire situation, life-threatening, danger all around, Kim could figure out what to do. That was her forte'. That was why she was what she was. But now... there was nothing _for her_ to do! She was going to die. Once that engine failed – any second, it looked like – she was going to crash into the forest-covered hills below and probably explode in an impressive slow-motion fireball, just like in the movies. Too bad no one was filming. It'd look cool on the news – a fitting end for a world-saving heroine. A fitting end for a moron. Suitable for her, certainly.

  
  


“Mon... is Ron there?” She just wanted to hear his voice. Her best-friend since pre-K, the boy she'd fantasized she'd marry one day – before she discovered what it was like to be _really_ attracted to people, and those people turned out to be girls.

  
  


“ _Right here, KP. What's the sitch?”_ he answered, trying to sound confident.

  
  


“The sitch is... uh... Ron, I just wanted to say... uh... I'm sorry it didn't work out between us... If – uh, things... – had been different...”

  
  


“ _KP, I appreciate that, but do you really think this is the time?”_

  
  


“Probably not. But there's not much else to do... Tell... tell Shego... tell Shego...”

  
  


“ _Kim Possible! This is Dr. Director! You can cry like a little girl on your own time, not on mine!”_ The Director had been listening to everything, and heard Kim turn morbid. She knew what it meant – in that state, she would stand no chance whatsoever. Even a miracle couldn't save someone who was prepared to die. But, she knew her agents – or quasi-agents in this case - and Kim Possible would respond to Authority. Well, the Director was the Authority Figure here, so it was her time to go to work, _“Now you listen to me –_ _you WILL find a place to land MY AIRPLANE! Are you reading me?”_

  
  


“But... there's nowhere -”

  
  


“ _Then you find the best possible 'nowhere' you can! You have a million possibilities in front of you, so get to it! There's a little clearing up ahead, for instance. What's wrong with that?”_

  
  


“Well... it's on the side of a mountain, and I'd be landing uphill on a 30-degree slope. Might as well be a wall, at this speed...”

  
  


“ _And what's beyond that? And what's under you right now? THINK Kim!”_

  
  


Beyond that? Well, she couldn't really see beyond that. She did have access to maps... she changed her center panel to show the map-view. Actually, beyond that hill was a long, _long_ downward slope. Into a lake. A _downward_ slope? Yes! If she could manage to skid lightly along a _downhill_ slope – assuming it wasn't covered with forest – she might be able to lose enough speed to... well, to not disintegrate on impact, anyway. She could close down the throttles – that would make her sink... How fast she sank was actually the one thing she _could_ control. Yes! It _might_ work! Now it was just a matter of getting over the peak of that hill, and it was coming closer really, really fast...

  
  


_I just hope it's not covered with – oh, crap._ The slope was, of course covered with trees. But on closer examination, they appeared to be small trees, at least, not full-grown.  _Must have been logged, or maybe there was a fire... doesn't matter. That engine is going to die any second, and this plane is about to shake itself apart anyway. Now or never, Kim. Remember “I can do anything”? Seems like a long time ago I used to think that..._ She pushed forward on he throttles, lowering the turbine thrust. The G-3 sank. Slowly.

  
  


Too slowly. _I don't have time or room to do this gently! Just sink, damn you!_ She pushed on the throttles more, but she was still over-running the slope. If this kept up, she was going to end up in the lake. _Maybe that's not such a bad idea. Water is softer than wood and rock..._ _Well, not at this speed, it isn't. More stupid ideas... Concentrate, Kim! You picked your poison, follow through!_ She began pushing on the throttles, faster than before, when suddenly, the roar she had been so used to it wasn't even noticeable anymore just – stopped. The engine had died. The only noise now was the whistling of the wind. It was eerie.

  
  


“Remaining engine just went out. I think... I think..”

  
  


The sleek, if damaged, aerodynamic G-3 Bomber fell out of the sky just as if it were no more than any other hunk of metal and plastic. All that engineering, the smooth curves, the graceful wings – all of it absolutely useless without the power of the engines to push it through the air. With 1,300 pounds of J-5 fuel in it's belly, Kim's plane kissed the ground like a long-lost but drunken lover.

  
  


First, the plane rolled to the right, snapping off a wing against the ground as if it were made of Styrofoam, then the main body of the fuselage smacked the earth, and the exchange of momentum bounced the whole plane back into the air, just like skipping a rock across a pond. It barrel-rolled twice before coming back down – _bam!_ \- leaving the entire tail-assembly behind this time. The screaming sound of titanium-alloy being pulled apart almost ruptured Kim's ears. The remaining wing hit a surviving mature tree, tearing it off and spinning around what remained of the bomber – the nose and belly – over and over. The belly-tank ruptured, and metal-against-rock sparks ignited the fuel instantly, enveloping everything in a yellow-orange fireball. In this way, Kim slid, spun, and bounced her way down the hill, toward the lake.

  
  


And into it, plowing up a great splash of water fifty feet high before her. Still spinning, still engulfed in flame, she skipped on the water for a hundred yards – the length of a football field – before coming to rest.

  
  


What remained of the forward section of the aircraft sank within seconds, Kim Possible – unconscious but alive – still inside.

  
  


The lake closed over her like the embrace of an over-protective mother, and all was still and quiet again.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“ _Monique! Contact Colorado Search and Rescue, tell them-”_

  
  


“Did that three minutes ago, Dr. Director. Just sent them Kim's last known GPS coordinates before the transponder died – uh, stopped.” Monique replied almost absent-mindedly. She was busy, and the Director was a mild annoyance.

  
  


“ _Okay, then call the Airbase at White Sands, and tell them-”_

  
  


“Two minutes ago, Dr. Director. Told them to scramble for incoming low-flying bogie from the east. I used your name, hope that was okay.”

  
  


“ _Oh. Well... yes...”_

  
  


“Got the Army reservists from Fort Collins in the air about thirty seconds ago. Wade, we could use some coordinates for Shego, if you have 'em.”

  
  


“ _Coming up on your screen now, Monique.” Damn..._ Wade thought, _she's fast. I thought I was a genius for just thinking to look for Shego's Kimmunicator signature..._

  
  


“Thanks Wade. Our ETA Grand Junction in one-point-five hours, people. Hope we find them waiting for us. Will let you know of developments - AR4BD, monitoring.”

  
  


Ron had been listening on the radio and watching Monique, absolutely in awe of the girl. Ten minutes ago, she'd been sitting on his lap quivering with orgasm, and now she was the definition of All Business. Three binders lay open in front of her console, two of Emergency Radio Procedures and one Console User's Training Manual. A notebook and pen she'd found in a drawer was right in front of her, and he'd looked over her shoulder once to see log entries and notes – hour, minute, second – of everything she had done and the names, titles, and offices of everyone she'd spoken with. He could hear every word she said, but there was no way he could keep track of to whom she was talking. Monique had five conversations going on at once, and it was all he could do to just try and count them. He couldn't decide whether to feel guilty for not “having Kim's back” or relieved that Monique did, or proud that it was Monique – his girlfriend – who had it. Awed, frustrated, and afraid for Kim all at the same time, he kept thinking _Damn!... Damn!... Damn!..._ with a different connotation each time.

  
  


For her part, Dr. Director, back at GJ headquarters, was also making a note into her PalmPC - “Get Monique in here, ASAP. Damn!” She actually wrote in the “Damn!”, too.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Cin was trembling in abject terror, her arms wrapped around her girlfriend so tightly that Bonnie was truly having trouble breathing.

  
  


The lurching and rolling they could feel had become roller-coaster like as the cargo-plane hauling them performed tight and radical maneuvers – up and down as well as side-to side - through the mountains, the OPT swaying underneath it. Bonnie had them wedged in as a pair between the work-bench, the floor, and the back of the Bit Condition Console, so they had support on three sides – which left three sides open. Dozens of binders of full-color pictures and specification-sheets, and several boxes of brochures intended for the next days sales-pitch, were sloshing back and forth and sometimes lifting into the air as if by magic. But at least nothing dangerous was sliding and jumping around with them; the OPT had been built something like a ship in that respect, everything loose had a home to secure it. Good thing, too, because there were a great many large, heavy tools rattling in their holders. If even one of them were to come out of their brackets... it could be bad in there.

  
  


“Cin... Cin... we're okay. We'll be okay. Nothing's going to happen... Cin... you're holding me too tight, I can't breathe. It's okay, it's okay...” Bonnie whispered to her, trying to at least do _something_ to soothe her. Bonnie wasn't in such great shape herself – she was getting extremely  nauseas, and parts of her blouse were soaked with cold, clammy sweat. All the more reason she needed to be able to breathe. If only she could get Cin's mind off what was happening... or her own, for that matter. But she was too sick to think of anything except how sick she felt, so mostly she just repeated the other girl's name over and over.

  
  


This had been going on for half an hour. For the last ten minutes of that, Bonnie had been figuring out how she was going to throw up without making _too_ big a mess; because there seemed little doubt that she was going to do just that, and any time now, too. The smell of Cin's urine – she'd pee'd her pants – wasn't helping. And then, as the swaying from the last turn died out and they braced themselves for the next one – it just stopped. The next one never came. Apparently the ride was over.

  
  


“Cin, I think it's over. Relax Cin... I really need some air here... Cin? Cin?” Bonnie continued, repeating herself several more times before she finally felt the girl's embrace loosen, and then loosen even more. Finally, Cin released her fully, and pulled away enough to look Bonnie in the face. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, her nose still running. But it was the look _in_ those eyes that made Bonnie's heart skip a beat -

  
  


Hatred. Complete and utter hatred, animal like in its intensity, shown through Cin's eyes.

  
  


“C-Cin? Why are you looking-”

  
  


“ _DON'T TALK TO ME!_ DON'T... don't look at me, either!” she cried, scrambling to her feet, only to stagger her way to the far back corner of the OPT, hand-over-hand along the hull.

  
  


“Cin -”

  
  


“Shut-up!”

  
  


Her back to Bonnie, she sat on the floor and brought her knees up to her face. Bonnie could only stare and wonder: what the _hell_ was going on? What had she done? What had she done WRONG?! Bonnie replayed the events of the past half-hour, looking for something, ANYthing for which she should apologize, but there was just nothing. She'd tried to comfort and protect her, that was all. Was there something wrong with that? If Bonnie had been the one terrified of heights, of flying, wouldn't Cin have done the same for her? What was the deal here?

  
  


“What -”

  
  


“ _Please_ shut-up, Bonnie” she said softly this time, which if anything, only threatened to break Bonnie's heart with implied sincerity.

  
  


It's hard when someone you care about finds out you're not the person you wanted them to think you were. It's harder still when they find out that you're not the person _you_ thought you were.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


_Sitting on the couch, watching TV, Shego lying at the far end, her bare feet in Kim's lap. It was a monster movie. It was Godzilla vs. Mecha-Godzilla, in fact. Not one of her favorites, but it was fun looking for cinematic bloopers anyway. Kim took a sip of green tea, and lifted Shego's left foot to her mouth, biting off two of her toes. She vaguely thought it would taste funny, but instead the toes tasted kind of like a cross between shrimp and oranges. The bones were pleasingly crunchy, too._

  
  


_She glanced at Shego to show her appreciation, and Shego glanced up from her Rolling Stone magazine to wink back, then went back to reading. Kim took another toe off her foot and munched it contentedly. On the TV, one of the sky-scrapers of Tokyo fell over, revealing itself to be a cardboard cut-out._

  
  


_Cut-out cut-it-out cut-scene cut to Shego and Kim fighting, fighting seriously, fighting amorously although only the director had the vision to know it, the actors were just doing what they thought they were supposed to to make it look real. The script said to make it look real, and they were good actors. They were good actors because this was the only scene they ever played, over and over. The thing is, they were getting it right every time! Why didn't the director move on to the rest of the movie? Why did he keep insisting on more and more takes of this one thing? Kim didn't really mind, though, because this was the only scene in which her and Shego would even appear once the final cut was made._

  
  


_Then something changed, because Shego's arm had passed right through Kim's block, and her hand was sticking straight into Kim's chest through her black turtle-neck sweater, up to her elbow, in fact. Kim looked down at the embedded arm, and then up to Shego's face – you're not supposed to do that, she said, but Shego only smiled and shrugged. CUT! PRINT! said the director._

  
  


_PRINT! Prints. Fingerprints on a birth-certificate, baby fingerprints, baby footprints, black ink on the green-printed paper with Kim's baby photograph in the right-hand corner. Luckily, Kim thought, it was only her face, and didn't show the birth-marks that covered the rest of her body, neck to foot, like tattoos. In fact, they kind of looked like tattoos, all swirly and abstract, the swirls winding around each other but never crossing, never intersecting, just two continuous lines. How did you get birth-marks like that? The doctor asked, and then added Hey look, they meet after all, right here in the small of your back – well, no wonder Kim had never seen that. I don't know, Kim said._

  
  


_I don't know – the green slime fell onto her head drenching her red hair and flowing over her shoulders. Kim knew this would happen, and had already closed her eyes in anticipation. Not that it would have hurt to get it in her eyes – the stuff was actually edible, she knew, tasting a little like shrimp and oranges. Ron quipped Don't you want to get rid of that stuff, Kim, and Kim said Not really, but what would you suggest? setting him up. Well, maybe some water – and the water drenched poor Ron as he stood there, soaking his feet, his legs, up to his waist, his belly, coming up over his breasts... Hold it hold it, said a man in a tool-belt that Kim always called Schneider, though that wasn't his name. That's – not - right, he said, pounding on the table to emphasize each word. That's-not-right, Thud-thud-thud. Thud-_

  
  


thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud. Kim opened her eyes. She had no idea where she was, or what had happened, but she did know that the water was up to her chest, and she somehow knew it was going to get higher. She knew she had to get outside. But how? She looked around to get her bearings.

  
  


A man in scuba-gear was outside her window, pounding on it to get her attention. That was odd. Was it raining outside? Must be a hard rain – that would explain all the water. How funny he looked, his lips distended over the mouth-piece. He was pointing at something at the edge of the window. Kim couldn't read it – the letters didn't seem to want to line up, but it was red, whatever it was. A red handle of some kind. She reached for it. The man seemed to want her to pull it, because he made jerking, tugging motions with his arm. _Okay, funny underwater-man._ Kim pulled just like he was showing her.

  
  


_Shit! Give me a chance to get away, girl!_ the rescue-diver thought. But before he could, the explosive bolts fired, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He filed the mistake away in the back of his mind with the others from over the years. The dreamy way the girl had looked at him and smiled should have told him that she wasn't thinking straight – probably had a concussion – but that sort of thing was the paramedic's job, not his. His job was to  _get her_ to the paramedics. And he would, but it wasn't going to be easy. For one, the young pilot seemed to be completely untrained – her harness was still locked down. And of course, now that water had completely filled the cockpit, she was panicking – arms flying and pulling desperately on anything she could get ahold of. Including him, if he should get within her reach.

  
  


So. His call. The proper thing to do was to let her drown, then get her to the surface and to the waiting paramedics as soon as possible. That would keep him safe, and, in a way, even be safer for the girl, too. That's what the instructors always said to do. He knew already that he wouldn't play it that way – he never did. He couldn't just let someone drown... What the instructors never said, but he'd learned from experience, was that if you can just get air to the victim, let them breathe, they'll calm down almost immediately. He took his pony-bottle out of his BC pocket and opened the valve, then swam partially into the now-absent side window, keeping just out of reach.

  
  


Kim was trying desperately to pull herself out of the chair, to go _up_ , up where there was hopefully some air. It was infuriating that something was holding her down, but if only she could pull _harder_... with all her might... maybe...

  
  


Something was in her mouth. She shook her head to get rid of it, but it remained, and air started coming out of it. She grabbed at it instinctively, covering whatever it was with her hands, making sure it couldn't get away. She began to breathe. After half a minute, it occurred to her to open her eyes.

  
  


Three minutes, max, and the way this girl was gasping, probably half that. _Time to go, babe_ he thought, and reached in to punch the plate on her chest that would release the harness. But – faster than he would have believed possible – the girl grabbed his wrist and just held him there, six inches away from the release button. He looked at her face and saw her head follow his arm up to his shoulders, finally looking him in the eye. He took out his mouthpiece and smiled at her, then pointed to the Rescue Diver patch on his vest. The girl nodded, and released his wrist. _Well, I'm impressed..._ He'd never seen anyone in this sort of situation come to their senses so quickly. He'd have a story to tell the guys, when he got back.

  
  


Kim hadn't so much come to her senses as all that, in fact, she still had no idea what had happened, or where she was, who this man was, where the air had come from – she had no idea about anything at all, truth be told. But the funny underwater man seemed nice – she could see that. He seemed like he could be trusted. That was a good thing, since she didn't seem to be able to help herself in any way... maybe he would be able to help her. She let him do whatever he wanted – a rare experience for Kim. It was a smart choice.

 

* * *

 


	15. Chapter 15

Shock-horror. The British phrase fit exactly Cin's condition. Shocked about how she'd acted when the ride had turned scary, horrified at her condition now. And Bonnie had seen it all, dammit! That was the worst part. If she'd been alone, at least she could have dusted herself off – and maybe found a change of clothes somehow – and pretended it had never happened. Well, she hadn't been alone. So now Bonnie knew that everything Cin pretended to be was a lie. Cin hated her for that.

  
  


Tough Girl Cin. Tom-boy. Hard-, bull-, dyke Cin. Cringing and crying and wetting herself while clinging desperately onto the feminine, girly, cheerleader. It was unbearable! She was supposed to be the tough one! She was... she was the boy! Well, apparently she wasn't as “boy” as she'd thought she was – at all. She'd felt a tinge of not-boy the previous afternoon, while making love with Bonnie, but she could ignore that because both her and Bonnie had been too... busy... to notice. And too shy to talk about it afterward. Funny how you could be more uncomfortable with someone _after_ making love than you had been before, but that's how it had gone.

  
  


But the way she'd acted when the OPT – her and Bonnie's cage – had started rocking and dropping and lifting couldn't be ignored. For half an hour Cin had been a terrified little girl, clutching onto Bonnie for protection. Exactly the wrong way around, that was. Bonnie must be totally disgusted with her...

  
  


“Cin? Did you bring those strawberries along?” Bonnie asked, hoping enough time had gone by that she wouldn't get another _shut-up!_ in return. Her  nausea now gone, Bonnie's new crisis was plain everyday hunger.

  
  


“In my pack. Over there” she looked briefly up and pointed to the space behind the Nav and Dir panel. Bonnie was obviously hiding her disgust and disappointment. _I guess because there's no way she can get away from me. Otherwise she'd probably make some kind of excuse, “I gotta get back to the 'rents – they'll be looking for me”, something like that. Some polite way of saying Sayonora, Baby – see ya around._ The dampness and smell of her jeans reminded Cin of her guilt and disgrace. She hid her face behind her knees again.

  
  


“You want some?” Bonnie asked.

  
  


“No.”

  
  


Bonnie took the pack and sat down beside Cin anyway, and began eating the chocolate-dipped strawberries. They were incredibly good – especially to someone who hadn't eaten in sixteen hours.

  
  


“Mmm, gawd, these are good! Ya sure, Cin?” Bonnie held out one of the larger berries. Cin peeked at it over her knees, suddenly starving at the sight of food. She took it and began grimly eating. When she'd finished it, Bonnie held out another. So polite. It was the last straw.

  
  


“Look, just stop pretending, okay? Here -” Cin grabbed a handful of the berries from inside her pack, “I'll take these, you can have the rest. Now just leave me alone!”

  
  


“M-kay” Bonnie replied with her mouth full, non-plussed. She had time to find out what Cin meant by 'pretending'. No rush. They ate in silence.

  
  


Once she was finished, Bonnie brushed her hands together and got up, “Let's see if we can find you something to wear, huh? They must have some kind of locker in here somewhere. Someplace the workers can keep their -”

  
  


“Bon, just drop it, okay? Look, I'm not... I'm not like you thought I was, alright? So just stop being such a... girl! It's just making me mad.”

  
  


_So that's what it is_ Bonnie thought,  _Well, whatever that means... What DOES she mean?_

  
  


“What do... what are you trying to say?”

  
  


Cin looked over at her still burning with hatred. Bonnie was going to make her spell it out, then, was that it? Get in some final indignity? Well, so be it, let's get it all out in the open.

  
  


“You only liked me 'cause you thought I was basically a boy with tits, that's what I'm saying. Well, I'm not. Sorry to burst your bubble” Cin said. It wasn't Bonnie's bubble that had burst, of course. It was Cin's.

  
  


Cin had made her mind up at the age of ten that she was a boy, despite outward appearances. She had enough clues that she wasn't a girl – she didn't like playing girl-games, she didn't like hanging out with the girls, she didn't like the girl-clothes... she didn't really like girls at all. All they did was make her feel alien. On the other hand, she fit right in with the boys. And the boys seemed to accept her, even think she was cool. How much more proof did you need? As time went on, the disparity only became worse – by Junior High, over-heard conversations in the girl's bathroom were beginning to sound like a foreign language. Make-up and clothes and colors (she never did figure out what the hell “heliotrope” was) and who were the cutest boys... By her thirteenth birthday she had figured out that she liked the boys who looked like girls. Not long after that she realized that what she REALLY “liked” was _girls_ that looked like girls.

  
  


Bonnie tried to figure out what she'd just heard - it sounded like nonsense to her. Cin thought that Bonnie thought of her as a “boy with tits”? Where did _that_ come from? And why would she think that Bonnie would even be interested in a “boy with tits” in the first place? Yeah, well, honestly, that might be kinna cool... in a weird way... but it certainly had nothing _at all_ to do with how she felt about Cin! Either before _or_ after yesterday! Cin was obviously... well, put it this way: there was obviously something about her that Bonnie didn't understand.

  
  


“'Boy with tits' huh? Right. That's a new one on me, for sure. Cin... you _do_ realize that sounds totally insane, right? I mean... are you serious?”

  
  


Cin's forehead wrinkled looking at her, trying to figure out Bonnie's game. What Bonnie had just said wasn't very polite, considering. In fact, it was kind of rude. What was she up to?

  
  


“I'm a hard-butch dyke, Bonnie. Now tell me that's not what turns you on. Go ahead” she challenged.

  
  


“Well, yeah, it is” she admitted, “What's that got to do with being 'a boy'?”

  
  


Cin stared at her. She'd had her answer to _No, Cin, that's not it at all_ all saved up and ready to go, with a side of  vitriol to boot. But Bonnie's admission, coupled with _what's that got to do with being a 'boy'_ was completely unexpected. DID it have anything to do with being a boy? DID “hard butch” mean “masculine”? That had never occurred to her before – she'd always assumed it was a given. Was it possible to be 'butch' and not macho? What did 'butch' really mean, anyway? Or 'masculine', for that matter? Suddenly it was all very confusing, just like it had been when she was 10. Cin had thought she'd figured all this out...

  
  


Bonnie was staring right back. Her eyes were clear, open, honest, totally without guile. She wasn't hiding anything. She wasn't being rude. She wasn't being nosy. She wasn't even showing her trade-mark cynicism. Suddenly the clouds lifted from Cin's mind and she realized: Bonnie just wanted to know what was wrong.

  
  


And what was wrong was Cin.

  
  


“Uh... can I have a minute here? You're confusing me. Actually, I take that back. I think _I'm_ confusing me.”

  
  


“Sure. I'll just poke around, see what I can find.”

  
  


Cin watched her rummage through the drawers and lockers for awhile. Finally, she took the Big Step, the All-Out Plunge, her Deepest Secret: she said, “I'm scared of heights, Bon.”

  
  


Without looking back at her, Bonnie replied casually, “Yeah, I figured that out. I'm the same way with spiders.”

  
  


Cin's eyebrows shot up, “Spiders?”

  
  


“Spiders. Ew! Even saying the _word_ makes me shiver!” It was true, Bonnie had goosebumps just from hearing it thrice in a row.

  
  


A pregnant pause.

  
  


Then Cin said, “I guess you're not going to like Rosalyn then...”

  
  


“Rosalyn?”

  
  


“My tarantula. She's a Brazilian Blue! Dad gave her to me when I was five. Of course, I wasn't allowed to play with her until -”

  
  


Bonnie spun around to face her, “You ARE kidding me, right Cin? Right? Right, Cin...?”

  
  


Cin only smiled.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


She felt fine! What was all the fuss about? Why were all these people looking at her? Kim looked around the rescue-chopper's cabin, mildly annoyed at the wasted time. She was  _supposed_ to be out chasing some bad-guys. She didn't have time for all these stupid questions about her name, where she lived, who was the President of the United States...

  
  


Kim “woken up” half an hour away from Grand Junction. Actually, she'd been awake the whole time before that too – but she would never, ever, be able to remember that particular span of time. A mild concussion had erased it forever... but it wasn't a sharp, distinct blank-spot. It sort of faded out somewhere in the tumbling plane and faded back in again while the medics were putting ice-packs around her shoulders. In between was simply not there.

  
  


She looked around the cabin and saw Shego staring back at her, leaning forward on her seat, dressed only in blanket on her lap and mummy-like bandages that wound around her from the neck down. Kim smiled brightly at her – seeing Shego was the best thing that could have happened - but Shego didn't smile back. Instead, she just glared, hard as steel, and finally looked away out the window. Kim remained confused for a moment before it came back to her what she'd done, and then her smile vanished, and for the rest of the ride she only stared at the floor.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Ron, Monique, Krache, and Burns were there waiting for them when the helicopter landed.

  
  


“KP! I... I...” Ron stammered, unexpectedly overwhelmed with emotion. He didn't know he'd be so... happy to see her. Now that it was assured that he'd never be Kim's boyfriend, he'd just assumed that their bond was – well, if not broken, then certainly not as strong. Apparently he was wrong. His arms flew open to hug her.

  
  


“The shoulders! Watch the shoulders, Ron!” Kim cried before he could embrace her. A green-stick fractured collarbone made certain movements painful, and even the _thought_ of being squeezed made her wince.

  
  


“Oh, sorry. Well... I'm just so glad you're okay! What's -” he began, but Monique cut him off.

  
  


“I'm SO happy you made it, GF!” she said “hugging” Kim but without the embrace. “You were sounding kinda hopeless there for awhile... was it really that bad?”

  
  


Shego stood in the background while all the faux-hugging and catching-up was going on, still clad in only her blanket and bandages. No one had even noticed her. _She_ should've been the hero! _She_ should've been the one everyone was wanting to congratulate! But no, Kim had seen to it that all the glory would belong to her and her alone. It was irrational, but it was how she felt.

  
  


Once everyone began filing into the Gulfstream, she followed glumly behind, not bothering to tell anyone that she would need something to wear eventually. The last thing she wanted to do right now was need anything at all from these people. Fuck 'em.

  
  


Everyone found a seat: Ron next to Kim, Monique at her station, and Shego two rows back on the other side from Kim and looking forlornly out the window. Monique was immediately back on-line with Wade to see if they'd found the OPT yet. No luck. So she told the pilots to just head west and hope for something to turn up. The bad guys were four hours ahead of them – they could well have landed, unhooked the OPT, and headed home by now. According to RB Corp., they might be a hundred feet underground by now, given soft earth.

  
  


But there _is_ no “soft earth” around Grand Junction, Colorado...

  
  


“Hey Wade... you keep looking, I'm going to get in touch with the Geological Survey, see if we can figure out where they might be going around here. If they even _are_ around here anymore, I mean.”

  
  


“Good luck Mon. We'll find 'em. I have a few tricks left up my sleeve... Out.”

  
  


During take-off and the climb to altitude, Kim filled Ron in on her big adventure, but in the back of her mind, she knew she was going to have to make it up, somehow, to Shego. She wasn't dreading it, but she knew a little bit about her girlfriend, and it wasn't going to be easy, either.

  
  


As soon as the “Fasten Seatbelts” light went off, she said, “I have to go talk to Shego, Ron. She... she's mad at me.” Ron could imagine. Of all the people who'd heard Kim order Shego to jump, only Ron and Dr. Director (and Wade, who wasn't telling) knew about her and Shego's “special” situation.

  
  


“Yeah. Good luck, KP” he said as she got up.

  
  


Shego didn't even glance at her as Kim sat back down in the adjoining seat.

  
  


If Kim thought she was uncomfortable, that was nothing compared to how Shego was feeling. Shego no longer trusted Kim. Kim's power over her was no longer the least bit erotic – instead it was frightening, enraging, humiliating. She was ready to elbow Kim in the mouth the _second_ she thought Kim might be trying to screw with her mind. She was expecting Kim to do that, too. And probably right now. She tensed, getting ready for the blow.

  
  


“Shego... that... what I did was stupid, I know. I mean... probably the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. I... well, I just wasn't thinking. And I couldn't... uhm...”

  
  


Shego made no sign of acknowledgment.

  
  


“Look, I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be, okay? I'm sorry. I'm really _really_ sorry... Will you _please_ talk to me?”

  
  


Finally Shego turned her face from the window and looked Kim in the eye, “I want out. I don't want to be part of... 'Team Possible', as you kids call it. Next stop, I'm getting off this plane – if I have a choice, that is” she said sarcastically. She didn't consciously know it, but she was trying to push Kim into doing the very thing she feared most - using her power again - to prove to herself that Kim could no longer to be trusted. “And if I even remember saying that, once we land.”

  
  


The words cut though Kim's heart like a hot knife, searing the flesh and leaving the smell of cooked meat in the air. Unable to think about the full impact of what Shego was saying, she latched on to the logistics of her proposition. She could argue with _them._ She could use rational thought against _them_. She could dare to think about _that._

  
  


“They... They'll lock you up, Shego... you heard the Director. They'll lock you up for -”

  
  


“I've broken myself out of jail before. I'll do it again,” the former and maybe future criminal replied, looking out the window again. “Unless, of course, you're going to stop me. It doesn't really matter either way. I'd rather sit in a cell than be here with... Anyway, I'm going.” Then she turned back to Kim to say one final thing: “You're the only person in the world that can stop me, too. So make up your mind.” Shego made a fist with her left hand – the one on the far side from Kim, and readied herself to beat the girl to a charred, smoky pulp, if necessary. She watched Kim's mouth, not her eyes.

  
  


Kim's lips parted – Shego got ready. Before one syllable left the teenager's mouth, at least ten of her teeth could be smashed in. And that was without the plasma. But Shego wasn't about to stop there. There was only one way to truly be free of this bitch, and Shego was ready to be free. _Wanted_ to be free.

  
  


But her lips closed again, and Kim got up without saying anything at all.

  
  


She walked back up the aisle toward Ron in a daze. Everything seemed suddenly strange, silent. Like a ghost of reality. Or maybe she was the ghost... she certainly felt as if she could walk right through the Gulfstreams hull and out into the air, her body no more substantial than the wind. But instead, she sat back in her seat next to Ron, on auto-pilot, as it were. She didn't even notice Ron staring at her.

  
  


“KP?... Kim? Is it... how'd it... are you okay?” he asked haltingly.

  
  


No, she was not “okay”. The whole world had just come to an end. It was obvious Shego hated her – hated her passionately. And this time for real. And this time for good reason. Oh, Kim could understand how Shego felt, alright – that didn't take any imagination at all. They mystery had always been how she could have ever felt different, as far as Kim was concerned. But... but she _had_ felt different, before. The fighting in the warehouse, the sex afterward, the night in jail, the flying... the two of them together, it had felt so... unnaturally _GOOD_ being with her like that! Kim hadn't wanted it to end, ever! She'd been fantasizing delicious, golden dreams of what their Life Together might be like. Addictive dreams. Opium dreams. For that short time, that few days, she'd had nothing on her horizon except more, better, and more often.

  
  


All gone now - poof! And even Ron couldn't get her out of this. Ron... another bridge burned behind her. Ron had Monique now. He wouldn't be chasing after Kim anymore. That part of her life – Ron trying to be her boyfriend – was over, for good. She had no one now. For the first time in her life, no one cared about her. She began to cry silently.

  
  


Just like the things Shego was feeling, none of it was true. But neither of them was willing to believe it. Kim and Shego both dwelt in, and dwelled on, their moods and trains of thought, becoming sadder and angrier, respectively. The pessimism and depression were a vicious circle, a snake eating its tail, a resonant feedback system, an engineer might say. Shego wanted more than anything to destroy something, and Kim just wanted to die.

  
  


“Kim?...” Ron said again, full of concern, but she only doubled over, head at knee-level, and cried more. And less silently.

  
  


Obviously she wasn't in any state to talk. At this point, Ron did the most dangerous thing he would ever do in his life – he went to talk to Shego.

  
  


“What did you say to her?” he asked, sitting in the next seat over from where Kim had, leaving an empty space between them. Shego didn't look away from the window.

  
  


“The same thing I'm telling you: I'm out. I've had enough of you people. Whatever happens, it has to be better than this.”

  
  


He thought about that for awhile. What Kim had done to her had obviously touched a nerve. But... Kim had lived through it, and so had Shego – it could have been a lot worse.

  
  


“Shego... I understand why you'd want to quit, but -”

  
  


“I don't ' _want to quit'_ , Stoppable! I _HAVE_ quit! I _AM_ out! You understand? This is not up for discussion!” She began to actually tremble with rage. These damn people wouldn't let her alone! Was it asking too much to just be LEFT ALONE?!! She  unconsciously balled up both fists, and consciously fought to keep her plasma down. Ron was sitting eighteen inches away from Sure Death, but didn't know it. He sighed and stared at the seat back in front of him.

  
  


_Shego's not thinking straight either, I should've expected that_ he thought.  _They're so alike, and yet so different... In a weird way they sort of complement each other. She's mad at Kim for trying to sacrifice herself for her, and Kim's crying because the woman she couldn't help doing that for wants nothing to do with her – because she did it. Geez._

  
  


“She's crying her eyes out up there, Shego. Okay, it was a dumb thing, what she did. If anyone should have jumped, it was her. Me, I think you should have both crashed together – taken your chances - but she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't take that chance. She wouldn't let you take that chance. And there's no _way_ you would've jumped if she hadn't forced you to. Isn't that right...”

  
  


Each word out of Ron's mouth _almost_ pushed Shego over the line. She was expecting him to say something that would, waiting for it, _hoping_ for it. Her mind re-worked everything he said, trying to find _some_ way to use it as an excuse to lose control. She wanted to lose control so much it physically hurt. Any excuse would do.

  
  


“Well... whatever, Shego. I was actually starting to like you, too – weird, I know. I was even kind of hoping that you'd teach me how to fly someday. Anyway, good luck... whatever happens.” He got back up and sat next to Monique, watching her work. As for Kim and Shego... there wasn't much for him to do there. Nothing appropriate, anyway. He would have liked to scream, stamp his feet, and slam something. Nope, nothing appropriate to do. Best to take his mind off it. Poor Kim. And poor Shego, too. Stupid girls, the both of 'em.

  
  


* * *

 


	16. Chapter 16

“They were using the mountains to lose us...” Dr. Director thought out loud, “That doesn't mean their destination is in that area.”

  
  


“Nope” Wade agreed curtly, glancing at a satellite image to look for the tell-tale infra-red signature. He had recorded that signature, and was in the process of scripting the code that would analyze _any_ image for it.

  
  


“... And we have no idea what their destination might be. But we may surmise – based on the fact that they've stolen a digging machine – that they intend to dig someplace where they can do damage. The San Andreas fault, perhaps – though there are lots of other faults... and to get to San Andreas, they'll have to cross open desert. No place to hide.”

  
  


“Nope.”

  
  


“Thank you for your input, Mr. Load. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  
  


“Yep” Wade said, fingers still flying at his keyboard.

  
  


“They can only use the Rockies to go north-south. Once they leave the mountains, the Air Traffic Control Radars will pick them up. The OPT has no stealth technology.”

  
  


“Nope.”

  
  


It was easy to see how the boy could befriend computers – apparently having a binary, on/off, yes/no mind-set was natural for him. Well, he had his place. And she had hers.

  
  


“ATC radars cover the whole country?”

  
  


“Yep.”

  
  


“Could I see a map of the United... make it, this whole hemisphere, with the ATC radars and their effective ranges overlaid?”

  
  


“Yep.” One of Wade's hands moved to another keyboard slowly, by feel. Then he glanced over at it, entered a dozen commands, and went back to what he was doing. The computer took a while to catch up.

  
  


The ATC radars over the U.S. left _very_ few holes in between them, most places, no holes at all. What holes did exist seemed to be mostly in the deserts west of the Rockies. Still, there was no possible way to get from one hole to the next without showing up on _some_ thing, somewhere. Canada had fewer radars, but still, it would be had to get anywhere without being noticed. Mexico, on the other hand, was devoid of any overlays at all.

  
  


“Does Mexico not have _any_ ATC radar facilities? Wade?” she asked.

  
  


“Nope – uh, yes, actually they do, but they're not on the international system. Their data is incompatible with it. So they don't share...” One could almost see the lightbulb over the boy's head.

  
  


But the Director beat him to it - “... and we can't legally follow them there with military or government aircraft, anyway, can we... international incident and all.”

  
  


“Damn!” Wade said.

  
  


“Excuse me, Mr. Load?”

  
  


It's hard being a boy genius. Genius or not, it's still the “boy” part that people see. “I mean, Gosh! Of course! They'll be following the Rocky Mountain chain down to Mexico! Once they're there, we can't see 'em, we can't follow 'em... all they would have to do is buy off a few Mexican Air Traffic Controllers and no one will ever know where they land! I'm sorry, Dr. Director... I was kind of caught up in this idea I had, and -”

  
  


The Director smiled down at him, “Don't worry about it, Wade. Actually, it's good to know that I'm _still_ good for something, at my advanced age” she joked. Working with a ten-year-old _did_ make her feel kind of ancient.  “But I don't believe Mexico is their destination. Not enough money to be made there. They're after bigger fish. And there's no ATC over the ocean, either. I believe they'll head west across the Pacific. The question is: to where?” She tapped her fingers and adjusted her eyepatch as she thought. Where would they go. Where there's lots of money to extort. Where a digging-machine would be a threat... “Wade? Mr. Load, I mean – get Shego on the line. I need someone who can think like a villain.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Monique handed her one of the wireless head-sets, “Call for you” she said simply. Shego broke out her angry reverie and looked up at the black girl's face, expecting to see... well, _something_ , though she wasn't quite sure what. But Monique was only looking at her a little impatiently as she held out the head-set. She took it and put it on.

  
  


“Hello?” Shego's unfamiliarity with the new communication gear showed. Had been comfortable with it, she probably would have said _What the hell do YOU want?_ Such was her mood.

  
  


“Shego – Betty here. I need a villain's advice on something. We think that the OPT is heading for -”

  
  


“Someone should have told you, Dr. Director – I quit. I've had it with... all of you. I'm getting off this damn plane the minute it lands somewhere – I don't care where. So don't expect any help from me.”

  
  


The Director thought, _Ah, trouble in paradise... That's the problem with couples working together... Sometimes it's a good thing, but sometimes you have to deal with their quarrels. I wasn't really expecting this from Kim and Shego though... they seemed like a perfect match, in their dramatically disparate way..._

  
  


But this wasn't the time to argue, nor did the Director have time to play Relationship Counselor. “Very well, Shego – you're out, you're off, you quit. Now, as I recall, you still owe me for showing you the Belarus Defense. Do you remember that?”

  
  


Shego did. It had allowed her to trade three pawns for a second Queen. She'd still lost the game – Betty was _good_ – but it had taken her an extra twenty minutes to do it, at least. “Fine. Call in your favor. Just remember you only have two left, now, right?”

  
  


“I'll write you a receipt. Now, as I was saying; whomever has taken the OPT will be heading west over the Pacific. What sorts of places would a villain be likely to extort money west CONUS?”

  
  


“That's pretty much half of the world, Betty...” Shego replied sarcastically.

  
  


“I'm aware of that. But some places are more attractive than others, especially to someone who can dig deep tunnels. I shouldn't really have to tell you this, yes?”

  
  


“Yeah. Uhm... right. Digs tunnels. Well, Hawaii is volcanic – hot lava and all that. Could do some damage there, I imagine... lots of military around, too. Weapons to steal...”

  
  


“But not much money to be extorted. The OPT is worth almost a billion dollars, Shego – the target will be an entire nation. A _rich_ nation.”

  
  


“Japan, then. Volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, land-slides... it's kind of a dangerous place.”

  
  


“True – but it's also very populated and throughly protected with high-tech military toys. I find it hard to believe they'd pick on Japan. Maybe Korea, or further down to Brunei... but not Japan.”

  
  


“Okay, I'll give ya that. But villains like to think about Japan – I wouldn't dismiss it so casually. Maybe they intend to use Hawaii as a base to strike from... Or – how about – blow up a volcano in Hawaii and make a tsunami that will hit Tokyo? I gotta tell ya, Betty: villains love Tokyo. Every one of 'em is a monster-movie fan. And they all have movie-star egos, too. Now that I think about it... I'd put money on Japan as the target, and Hawaii as the base of operations.”

  
  


“I do believe you may be right, Shego... Monique? Have Krache start heading that way now. They have a head-start of... Wade?”

  
  


“About six hours.”

  
  


“About six hours on you – but you're faster. So you should arrive...”

  
  


“About two hours.”

  
  


“About two hours after they do. And Monique – give me a private channel with Shego, please.”

  
  


Shego's eyes narrowed suspiciously; Kim and Dr. Director were both itinerant do-gooders... and the Director knew about Shego's condition. “Why a private channel? ... I don't like the sound of that.”

  
  


“Don't you trust me?” the Director asked.

  
  


“I... I don't know _who_ to trust anymore...”

  
  


_That_ was what Dr. Director needed to hear. That explained it all. “Never mind the private channel, Monique. Want to tell me why you've decided to quit Team Possible and join us in our fine facilities here instead? Mind you, I look forward to our games – until you break out, anyway.”

  
  


“Still got the onyx set?”

  
  


“Hasn't been touched since your last incarceration.”

  
  


“I like the onyx set... they just feel so... cool...”

  
  


“Don't trust Ms. Possible either, do you...” The Director was using a familiar tactic – let the other party think they'd changed the subject – then hit them directly in the heart while they were distracted. Even if they didn't answer (and they usually didn't), it would at least get them thinking about it. Step one.

  
  


After a pause, Shego finally said, “No.”

  
  


“Because she valued your life over her own?” Step two: direct to the Root Cause – ignore the consequence. People always dwell on consequences and ignore Root Causes. Normally, the Director wouldn't proceed through this game so quickly, but she knew her opponent well – Shego would respond to directness and clarity. She would know that Dr. Director had a plan for this conversation, and Shego liked things to be Planned.

  
  


“Because she did something stupid and I couldn't stop her. And she wouldn't even listen to me!”

  
  


“You'd have done the same thing in her situation.” As a statement, not a question, this would be Step three: re-consideration of the guilt of the offending party.

  
  


Shego didn't reply. Good. That meant the Plan had worked.

  
  


“Well, as you wish then. Since you won't give her another chance, I'll have an agent waiting in Hawaii to escort you back here via commercial airline – budget, you know. Meanwhile I suggest you – all of you – get some sleep. It's been a long day. As for me; it's lunchtime. Mr. Dr. Director is taking me to The Wild Fork – he's on some sort of salad kick lately – I have to pretend to like it. See you tomorrow, Shego. Monique? I'm done here, you may close the connection.”

  
  


“Roger, Director” Monique replied immediately, shutting off Shego's headset remotely.

  
  


As the Director had intended, Shego had been cut off – there was more she'd wanted to say... She would have liked to talk to Betty longer. Deep down, she wanted to be convinced that she'd been wrong about Kim and her motives. But that was _very_ deep down. She took off the headset and got up to give it back to Monique in the front of the cabin. She needed to stretch her legs anyway.

  
  


After handing it to the new (apparently) Team Possible Communications Coordinator, she turned around and there was Kim, first row, window-seat next to Ron, staring up at her expressionlessly while her sidekick played with something that looked like a hand-held poker game with antennas.

  
  


Shego stared back. Kim's eyelids were still a bit puffy, her nose reddish - But her eyes were as green as ever. And she was as beautiful as ever, too, despite everything. They stared at each other in private silence for a full minute. Shego had wanted to kill her only a little while ago. Well, she was over that now. But she still wanted to get away. Didn't she? They would be waiting to take her away at the airport in Hawaii, and Betty was dusting off the onyx chess-set in preparation. Shego liked the Director. She respected her. Even if they were on opposite sides of the fence – that was just how it was, how she was. She could forgive Betty for being a good-guy...

  
  


She went back to her seat and laid it back. Yes, sleep would be good about now. She yawned, stretching out her arms and legs as best she could, careful to keep her hands away from anything – she had a habit of involuntarily lighting up her plasma when she yawned deeply like that. She fell asleep within moments.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


And woke up five hours later, probably because she'd felt the hour-long descent begin. Something about the change in the roar of the engines, something a pilot would notice. Everyone else was still asleep, leaned back in their seats. For lack of anything better to do, she wrapped her blanket around her and got up to go through the overhead bins, see if she could find something to wear. She worked her way to the front, quietly going through each one. Pillows, blankets, magazines... someone's backpack, a carton of bottled water...

  
  


And finally, in the front bin – right above Monique's sleeping head – a blue jumpsuit. Medium. It would have to do. She turned around intending to change in the bathroom, but there was Kim again, asleep in her chair.

  
  


Everyone was asleep; she could stare her heart out. That's what she did.

  
  


Kim looked... angelic. That was the very word that popped into Shego's mind as she stood there holding the jumpsuit, looking at her. They'd never – so far – had the chance to actually sleep together, but Shego had thought about it. A lot. Sex was one thing, love-making would be another – would have been another – but to just share a bed and sleep with Kim would be – would have been – memorable. A light sleeper, Shego knew she'd be able to stare at Kim for hours - nuzzle her hair, listen to her sleep-breath, watch her drool – _anything_ Kim did would be beautiful to see, and Shego was looking forward to whole nights together. _Had_ _been_ looking forward to whole nights together...

  
  


_Had been_ looking forward to a lot of things. 

  
  


Kim had done a stupid thing. Kim had used her power over Shego to prevent her from doing anything about it. Kim had done that knowing full well how it would make Shego feel. Kim didn't care. Kim was going to control her whenever it was convenient. There was nothing Shego could do to prevent that except leave. Have nothing to do with her. Get out of her life. Go away. Maybe someday there'd be someone else she could watch sleep.

  
  


Yeah. How likely was _that_? She'd never felt about _any_ one like she'd felt about Kim Possible. Not even in fantasy. Kim _was_ her fantasy! Kim was what made life worth... living... and, she suddenly realized, always had been, since the first time they'd met. She could still remember that fight, the first of so many. The expressions of her face, the tone of her voice... the look in her eyes. A look that sometimes said “ _Please_ can't we stop this?”

  
  


She made her way to the bathroom to change in the darkened and quiet cabin, eyes straight ahead, afraid to look anywhere else but not knowing why.

  
  


In the bright fluorescent lights of the Gulfstream's bathroom she folded up her blanket and began peeling off her bandages. Her comet powers hadn't quite healed her scratches and cuts completely, but she welcomed the pain. She could thank Kim for that, she could try to build up her hatred again. It had felt oddly good to hate the girl, because everything had been so clear and easy: leave. Get out. Get away. Everything would be all better if only she could get away. It was so obvious. Flush the whole problem away. _Schllluuup!!_

  
  


“ _Since you're not going to give her another chance”_ Dr. Director had said. The words were echoing in her mind, alongside images of trudging through dreary airports escorted by dreary agents onto dreary airplanes to go back to her dreary cell and resume her dreary life. She would break out, of course. After a rest. When it got too dreary. Kim wasn't going to stop her, she knew that.

  
  


She _did_ know that... She _knew_ it! In her heart – as well as her head – there was absolutely no question.

  
  


_I could give her another chance..._

  
  


_I could. I can... forgive her. I can forgive her for doing something stupid because she... because she... Because she loves me._ Shego took a deep breath.

  
  


_I forgive you, Kim. Kimmie._

  
  


_Pumpkin._

  
  


And with that single-word thought, all her problems were flushed away. _Schllluuup!_ She smiled. No one could have been more amazed than Shego herself.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Shego poked Ron in the ribs. Several times. Hard. Finally, she just grabbed his hair and shook his blonde head awake.

  
  


“Uhhhhhmm... What? Shego -”

  
  


Shego put her finger to her lips in a universal gesture of “be quiet”, then nodded towards the empty seats on the other side. He looked at her questioningly. She rolled her eyes and made a point of looking at the girl next to him, then at Ron again, then at the empty row of seats. He stared at her blankly for a moment as the sleep wore off, then his eyebrows rose and he turned his head slightly - “Yeah?” She couldn't help but smile as she nodded back - “Yeah.” He smiled too - “Okay!”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“See anything?” Cin asked, keeping her back to the open door while Bonnie looked out.

  
  


“Water. As far as I can see. And...” she considered saying, _and we're WAY up, so that's pretty far_ , but thought better of it, “And that's pretty far. I think we're over the ocean.”

  
  


“The ocean? Which one?”

  
  


“How should I know? It's blue. Does that help?”

  
  


“Don't quit your day job, sweet-heart. Where's the sun?”

  
  


Bonnie pointed, “Uhm, that way. In front of us.”

  
  


Cin drew herself a mental map, “Okay, and it's after noon, so we're going west. Probably the Pacific then. We may be in for a long ride, Bon. Okay, could you please close the door now? It's giving me the creeps just knowing you're standing there...”

  
  


Bonnie closed and re-sealed the door, and sat beside Cin at the Directional Control and Navigation console. “Gawd, I wish we had some more of those strawberries. I'm starving!”

  
  


“Try to think about something else, or it'll just get worse. Besides, if it comes down to that, we'll die of dehydration before lack of food gets to be a problem.”

  
  


“Thanks, Cin. I feel so much better now.” She turned to study her girlfriend, who in turn seemed to be studying the console in front of her. Cin seemed to be doing a hundred percent better now: they'd found a bright orange jumpsuit in one of the lockers, and she'd cleaned up a little with Bonnie's moistened towelettes. Since the OPT wasn't swaying and diving anymore, Cin had pretty much adjusted to the fact that they were actually airborne. Still, Bonnie was making a point of not reminding her.

  
  


Suddenly, one of the display screens in front of Cin lit up by itself, displaying the message “Battery Low – Switch to Fuel Cell Power” in blinking red letters. Battery? The only thing on was the interior lights... But they _had_ been on quite a while. Then Cin had an idea:

  
  


“Bon? Let's fire this thing up.”

  
  


Bonnie had a little trouble registering what her girlfriend had just said. They were in  _hiding_ ! They were in  _trouble!_ They were  _not supposed to be there_ !

  
  


“Are you insane? Cin! We're in deep shit here! We don't-”

  
  


“What are they gonna do? Are we going to be in _worse_ trouble for lighting this thing off? Do ya think they're gonna come scampering down the ropes to find out who's down here? Besides, maybe we'll be able to find a radio or something... some way to call for help. Or, would you rather sit here in the dark... And cold. You notice it's getting cold?”

  
  


It  _was_ getting cold. Away from the radars, the custom cargo jet hauling them was heading for thinner air in order to make more speed. Unfortunately, thin air is cold air, and cold was not something the OPT was made to deal with. It had a/c, but no heater. Bonnie considered.

  
  


“You think it would actually do any good?”

  
  


“Not really. But it's something to do, and who knows what we'll find. Beats sitting here thinking about food...”

  
  


“You had to say that” Bonnie smirked at her.

  
  


“ It's my evil nature. I was actually thinking of becoming a villain, y'know. The Butch Avenger! My sleeve-less plaid shirt and jungle boots would strike fear into the hearts of -”

  
  


“Okay Cin... You can stop now. Fire it up if you want to – I can see you're loving this a little _too_ much. Uh... you don't really have a plaid shirt, do you? That's just _so_... tacky...”

  
  


“Just the one. Y'know... for church.”

  
  


Bonnie had to grin at that, despite herself. “I suppose I have to be the sidekick then...”

  
  


“Yeah! I was thinking you should go the corset and garter-belt route. Silver and black. Sound good?”

  
  


“Do I get a whip?” Bonnie asked, beginning to get into it. The idea of being the femme sidekick to The Butch Avenger did have a certain... appeal...

  
  


“First handcuffs, and now a whip. You are going to be _SO_ much fun, Bon-Bon!”

  
  


“Just turn on the damn machine. And don't call me 'Bon-Bon'. Ever.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


All power-generation methods generate waste heat that has to be disposed of. In the case of the OPT, intended to be surrounded by rock, the waste-heat radiators were built into the top of the aft portion of the hull. Which extended beyond the tail of the aircraft above. They lit up the infra-red spy satellites like a torch against the cool sea.

  
  


“We got 'em!” Wade shouted.

  
  


* * *

 


	17. Chapter 17

Monique woke up to the _beep-beep-beep_ of the CTSS decoder, as she'd pre-arranged with Wade. As had also been pre-arranged, she took her time answering, first visiting the bathroom, then fixing herself a cup of coffee. Finally she sat down and donned her headset. Wade informed her of the latest development, which she relayed to the pilot:  definitly Hawaii. The bad guy's signal was easy to follow now – they'd could be on top of them within two hours after they'd landed.

  
  


Which would be about an two hours from now, actually.

  
  


Monique flipped on the lights and picked up the PA, “ _Andiamo_ , people! Two hours to go... This would be a good time to come up with a plan!” Not one for gentle wake-up calls, Monique.

  
  


Kim sleepily realized she was leaning against Ron's shoulder – kind of embarrassing, given the situation, but she knew Ron wouldn't be awake anyway – he slept like a log . A sleepy log. She stretched into a major yawn and then absent-mindedly grabbed a handful of his hair to shake him awake, still without looking - “C'mon Ron, time to get up. Can't sleep all day...”

  
  


“That's okay, Pumpkin. I've been awake a while now. Good morning” Shego said.

  
  


_Shego?_ Kim was instantly wide awake.  _Shego!?_ Kim slowly, cautiously, looked over at her, still holding onto the  fist full of hair. She was smiling. Faintly, but smiling. 

  
  


“Can we just _not_ talk about it?” Shego asked.

  
  


Kim stared at her for a moment. What had happened? _SOMEthing_ had obviously happened! And she didn't want to talk about it? Well... actually, she could kind of understand that – she didn't want to talk about it either.  “Uh... uh, yeah. I mean no. I mean, uh, sure. We can. Not. I mean.” Kim's confusion charmed a lump in Shego's throat, and perhaps a little proudly, she thought, _Forgive her - SO the Right Decision._

  
  


Now her smile beaming, Shego said, “Good. Can you let go of my hair now Kimmie? Mon says we'll be landing on the bad-guys in a couple of hours.”

  
  


Well, maybe. The cargo-jet was a tilt-wing, obviously VTOL-capable, like a helicopter. Team Possible's Gulfstream was not. Well, that's what parachutes were for. It would be early evening by the time they got there – what with chasing the sun westward – so they'd be jumping in daylight, not an optimum way to surprise your enemy, but that's how it was going to be. Kim, with her fractured collar-bone, wouldn't be jumping at all. And Monique had no training, besides which she'd already shown her skill, and it was cerebral - not physical. So “Team Possible”, at least for that part of the mission, would consist of Ron and Shego. What a deal. Kim would have to catch up later, driving herself from the airport.

  
  


Beyond that, The Plan basically consisted of “Get there and think of something then” - a typical scenario for Team Possible, really.

  
  


“Gearing up” with Shego had to count as one of the most surreal experiences of Ron's young life. He and Shego – on the same team. Which of them would be the sidekick? The whole prospect of going on a mission _with_ Shego, instead of _against_ her... was just weird beyond words. They checked their parachutes and harnesses in silence, each kind of surprised that the other seemed to know what they were doing. Ron finally hefted the rig onto his back and was tightening the leg-straps when Shego broke the silence with a clench-mouthed “SHHHHHHHH-it!” after dropping her rig onto her back from over her head. The cuts on her back were still very tender, but she'd all but forgotten them – until now.

  
  


“You okay?” he asked awkwardly.

  
  


Shego just stood there a moment, eyes squeezed shut, teeth still clenched, while the stinging died down. Eventually, a little embarrassed at her stupidity, she just said, “Oh, yeah... Fine and dandy...”

  
  


“I'd have thought you'd be good as new by now. I mean, I've seen you take some pretty bad hits and next day you're ready for action again. Comet powers working okay?”

  
  


“I don't like to talk about the... comet, okay? But for your information: big things heal fast, little things – not so fast. Don't ask me how it works. I don't know” she said icily.

  
  


The chill in her tone worried Ron. How could he work with her like this? She _still_ felt like an enemy. Just a more civil one, is all. Maybe this was a bad idea...

  
  


“Yeah. Uh... look, Shego -”

  
  


“No. No, give me a sec” Shego cut him off, “Okay, I know this is kind of odd – us working together, on the same side an' all. I'm feeling really weird about it too... But we're going to have to make this work. _I_ need to make this work. I think you know why. We're going to have to - I can't believe I'm saying this – depend on each other. Right?”

  
  


Ron wasn't so sure, but didn't say anything.

  
  


“I'm sorry I snapped at you like that... uh, Ron. The thing is... well, last time I was on a 'Team', things didn't go so well, y'know? So I'm kind of nervous.”

  
  


Still apprehensive, but resigned to the situation, Ron only said, “Okay. Turn around so I can check your rig.”

  
  


She stared at him. Check her rig? Sure, that was standard procedure... for people who had partners. It wasn't 'standard' for Shego at all. And to have _him_ checking it? He could do anything back there... cut her rip-cords, pin down the flaps... and she'd never know it...

  
  


“Shego, if we can't be friends, let's at least be professionals? Now turn around.”

  
  


_Dammit – I HATE when the teenagers are right..._ She turned around.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


_Not too bad for my first tilt-wing landing. Not quite as soft as in a Huey... but I think I'd pass a check-out flight_ the pilot thought, finally shutting off the  experimental aircraft's engines and unbuckling his seatbelt. He got up and stretched – it had been a long  _long_ flight. But worth it – this would be  _such_ a feather in his cap! Of course, he'd never be able to tell anyone about it, well, until it was de-classified years later. But when that  _did_ happen... well, can you say “book deal”? It was too bad that it had been so easy to shoot down the villains chasing him. Might have meant a “movie deal”, if that had been a bit more exciting.

  
  


He made his way through twenty yards of coffee bushes to the tunneling machine. This was so cool – just him and a billion-dollar machine, alone on the coffee-covered hillside of the  Kona coast. Dr. Director should be meeting him in an hour or so, by which time he should have the thing ready to dig. All those weeks undercover as a temp at ReallyBig Corp's engineering offices were going to finally pay off. But  _GOD_ that had been boring work... typing up the Operations Manual for the OPT. All 2,253 pages of it. People did that sort of thing for a living? His fingers and eyes ached just thinking about it.

  
  


The hatch seemed to be locked. That was odd. You could only lock it from the inside... He un-holstered his gun, and climbed the ladder to the top escape-hatch. Whoever was inside would see and hear the hatch being opened, so there was no chance of surprising them that way. Well, he was trained to deal with this sort of thing. He knew a few tricks.

  
  


Hatch open, gun ready – he jumped through the opening.

  
  


To find two rather frightened-looking teenage girls staring at him from behind a workbench. How depressing. Goodbye movie-deal. He stood up straight, still pointing his gun at them.

  
  


“And you are?” he asked.

  
  


“Uhm... I'm Cindy. Saychenal. This is Bonnie Rockwaller. We... uh, we were inside when...”

  
  


“I see. Well, it's time for you to go outside now” he waved them toward the door.

  
  


Cin began walking toward the door, actually glad to finally be leaving the confines of her previously airborne prison, and began turning the wheel that lifted the dogs sealing it. Bonnie lingered behind. The man with the gun seemed intent on watching Cin opening the door – maybe it was the day-glo orange jumpsuit she wore, or maybe he liked the way her butt wiggled as she turned the wheel – either way, Cin was making a distraction, and this was just one guy. One guy with a gun. No problemo.

  
  


“Need any help Cin?” Bonnie asked.

  
  


“Nah, I got it. I'll be glad to -”

  
  


Bonnie high-kicked at the man's wrist and sure enough, the gun went flying. Then she tried a spin-kick to his face – but he ducked under it, at the same time kicking _her_ other leg out from under her, so that Bonnie toppled backward to the floor. The gun slid along the steel and ended up at Cin's feet. She picked it up. 

  
  


The man, satisfied that Bonnie was no longer a threat, turned to look at Cin, who was examining the pistol. “Now you be careful with that, young lady – that's not a toy. Best just set it down and -”

  
  


“No, I can see it's not a toy. It's a Heckler and Koch squeeze-cocker, isn't it? Also known as a 'lemon-squeezer'. I've seen 'em before, but never actually held one. Big bucks, these things are.” She pointed it at him. “The question is: is it loaded?” She squeezed the grip, bringing the action back and chambering a round, “Well, it is now, isn't it... I've also read that these things have _really_ sensitive triggers. Is that true?”

  
  


“Uh... uh yes, they do. Now, you be careful with that, you don't know what you're doing, Miss...” It was all he could think of to say, even if it had already been proved untrue.

  
  


“Yeah. I kinna like it. Grip's a little big for me... let's see what's in it, 'kay?” She squeezed the grip again, popping out the un-fired round and chambering another. With her other hand, she caught the ejected cartridge in mid-air and glanced at it. “Nine millimeter. Humph. I'm a .45 ACP girl myself. Model 1911 all the way – well, with a few modifications, of course.” She glanced at it again, bringing her eyebrows close as she studied the bullet. “Black Talons? You _are_ mean! Do you know what these things _do_ when they hit ya? Like razor-blades! They don't even sell these to civilians anymore, you have to be in law... enforce... oh, hell...”

  
  


The man was a cop. That was bad. That meant he knew how to handle situations like this. He was trained. Cin knew cops - her Dad was a cop. And she couldn't pretend that _she_ was just a helpless little girl now, either – she'd thrown that advantage away out of pure egoism. Not good. This was very, very not good...

  
  


“Having some trouble, Mr. Du?” a distinguished-sounding accented voice said outside the now-open door behind Cin. Cin didn't dare take her eyes off the cop. She couldn't. A person with a gun pointing at them has _very_ few options, so whoever is holding that gun had better pay close attention – lessons from Dad. Things had gone from very not good to quite a bit worse.

  
  


The cop seemed as surprised as Cin was, though, “S – Senor Senior? Senior? What... where -”

  
  


“Yes yes, good, we can skip the introductions then, with the exception of the young ladies. I'd like you to put down the gun, Miss... er....”

  
  


Cin swallowed. Bonnie answered for her, “Cin. And I'm Bonnie. Uh, we really don't have any -”

  
  


“Miss Cin. What a charming name... I am Senor Senior, Senior. If you'll turn around, you'll see my entourage. Gentlemen?”

  
  


Cin heard four rifles being cocked, one after another. Right. This was about as bad as it could get, then. Bonnie seemed to be out of ideas too – her hands were in the air. And oddly, so were the cop's. She turned around slowly to see the four automatic rifles aimed at her. Out of options, she slowly laid the gun on the floor. Then the three of them – Cin, GJ Agent Will Du, and Bonnie, formed a line and stepped out into the coffee field.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Ten minutes to drop” Krache said over the cabin speakers. Having check and double-checked their gear, there was little for Ron and Shego to do but wait for word to open the door. Ron stood by it going over the instructions. Shego stood next to Kim, who'd insisted on triple-checking her parachute.

  
  


“I – I just don't like this, Shego... I should be going, not -” Kim began for the umpteenth time.

  
  


“Yeah yeah yeah, 'I should be going not you. It's my job. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you. Yadda yadda yadda'. It'll be fine, Princess. Same job – different boss, is all.”

  
  


“Well... and be sure to-”

  
  


“ 'Keep an eye on Ron'... for the tenth time. My god, Kimmie, I thought _he_ was supposed to watch _my_ back!”

  
  


“Well, it sorta works both ways. He has a way of getting into trouble and -”

  
  


“ 'and somehow things always work out – it's weird'. Do you have _any_ thing to say you haven't said a dozen times already? Wanna show me where my rip-cord handle is again, in case I forgot in the last _two minutes_?” Shego said becoming exasperated. She felt like she was getting ready for her first day of first grade.

  
  


Kim sighed, “Okay okay. It's just... I just... be careful, okay?”

  
  


“Five minutes” Krache announced, “Ten thousand feet. Open the door.”

  
  


Shego stepped toward the door only to find herself being hauled back by her harness. Kim turned her around and planted a hard-and-fast kiss on her surprised mouth. “I love her”, she said, half-jokingly repeating what she'd said only a day earlier. Shego replied with the complementary, “I love her, too.”

  
  


“I hate to interrupt, but Shego: open at three thousand, right?” Ron said.

  
  


She turned slowly to face him, her eyes lingering on Kim. Finally, eye-contact broken, it was time for business: “You like being a floating target, Ron? Fifteen-hundred.”

  
  


“What I'd _like_ is to live to jump again. Twenty-five hundred...”

  
  


“Two thousand.”

  
  


“Deal. But – I mean it, two thousand. Not a foot more” Ron said hoping he sounded threatening, but doubting he was pulling it off.

  
  


“Word of hon- well... 'word', then. Boss” she smiled. Ron didn't quite know how to take that, and decided to ignore it for now. With Monique standing behind where the door would swing inward, he opened it, and the roar of 300 mph wind filled the cabin.

  
  


When the “No Smoking” light went on, Shego jumped, followed by Ron.

  
  


To Ron's surprise, again, Shego seemed quite good at this sort of thing. Holding her legs straight and her arms in a delta position, she tracked toward the barely-visible OPT below. He followed.

  
  


Once she was – as well as she could judge – only a hillside away, she flared to stop her forward motion. Ron copied her, and floated down to her level. Five thousand feet. Time to spare. Shego smiled at him and did a quick Style & Accuracy set: left turn, right turn, barrel roll, right turn, left turn, barrel roll. At each point of the set, her stops were sudden and precise – as if she had something to hold on to. Ron was impressed, and would have liked to show her _his_ tricks, but they only had a thousand feet to go now, so he kept his eyes glued to the altimeter on his wrist.

  
  


Two thousand. Shego waved to him, pulled her ripcord, and was gone. A second later, Ron pulled his.

  
  


The OPT was moving. It was digging into the hillside. They were too late. “You see what's happening, Ron?” Shego's voice came through his headset, breaking the astounding silence after having nothing but wind in his ears.

  
  


“Yeah. We're not gonna make it in time. Well, at least no one's shooting at us...”

  
  


“ 'Not gonna make it' my pale green ass. Follow me.”

  
  


Before Ron could reply – indeed, before his mind could recover from the “pale green ass” comment, he saw Shego's 'chute collapse into a wad as she fell away from it. “Shego!” he shouted instinctively. _Oh my god_ he thought, his mind racing with possibilities. Maybe her comet power was going to save her somehow, maybe she could fire off a plasma-ball and... and ...

  
  


Then he saw the small, round reserve 'chute open up. Ten seconds before she hit the ground. “You comin' Boss? Can't wait around here all day, y'know...”

  
  


Be safe. This was not the time to fool around. Be safe and... and the mission would be a failure. _Oh, hell... that damn woman..._ He pulled his cut-away and fell from his main parachute. Five-hundred feet – had he remembered to set his altimeter for the elevation of ... where were they? - no time to ponder, he pulled the reserve rip-cord. A moment later he hit the ground. No graceful tip-toe down, either; he performed a text-book Parachute Landing Fall, circa World War Two - feet, roll onto the thighs, hips take the most impact, roll on the ribs, shoulder gets the rest.

  
  


_Ow._ ..

  
  


Shego was standing him up before he could even figure out if he'd broken anything. “You okay Boss? Geez, I thought _I_ was cutting it close! You're quite the dare-devil, ain'tcha, when you wanna be.”

  
  


“Shego...” he managed to say.

  
  


“C'mon Boss, that thing is almost all the way into the hill, we gotta go _now!_ ” She already had his harness off, and was beginning to run with her arm around his waist as if he were crippled.

  
  


Which, to Ron's own surprise, he apparently wasn't. “I'm okay, Shego. I can run.”

  
  


“Then catch me if you can, Boss-man!” she said, an took off in a sprint.

  
  


_Boo-yah... and I thought KIM was hard to keep up with!_ he thought.

  
  


By the time the reached where the OPT _had_ been, they were faced only with a wall of rubble on the hillside. Shego had gotten there first, of course, and was standing there facing it with her eyes closed.

  
  


“What-”

  
  


“Shhh!” she shhh'd.

  
  


The mound of rubble on the hillside was still vibrating, little rocks and clods of dirt fell down it. The OPT wasn't far in there, but they had no way to dig...

  
  


... or blast? Ron suddenly got it – why Shego was just standing there like that, eyes closed, concentrating. She was “charging up”, somehow, preparing to throw a plasma-charge at the hillside. Damn. How handy was that? But he'd never seen her have to “charge up” before... did that mean -

  
  


All at once, Shego's hands erupted into green orbs of plasma. Bringing her hands to her shoulders as if she were pushing on a wall, her arms then flung forward and a green blob the size of a beach-ball flew toward the hill. The hill twenty feet away. Ron had seen what a softball sized plasma-ball could do, and this was over ten times bigger than that. Shego's hands were now extinguished but she seemed to be in a daze, so Ron did the only thing he could think of – he tackled her to the ground.

  
  


The hillside exploded in a spray of rocks and dirt.

  
  


“Shego! Shego, you alright?” he asked worriedly. Even if her fireball worked, what was he going to do with a zombie Shego? Leave her there?

  
  


“Ugh... I'll be a lot better once you get off of me, Boss” she replied groggily.

  
  


“Can you stand up?”

  
  


“Once again, if you'll get off of me, I think so, yeah.”

  
  


He got to his feet, helping her up afterward. The flood-lit rear of the tunneling machine was visible now, thirty feet into the hillside, heading at a downward slant. But, it was also piling still more rubble behind it as it went. In the relatively soft earth, it was going fast...

  
  


“We gotta go now Shego, or it'll just bury itself again. You up for it?”

  
  


“Hey, if you can do it, I can do it. Better” she said. He let go of the arm he had pulled her up with, and she swayed on her feet. “Uh... on second thought, maybe I could use a _little_ help... watch out for the rocks, by the way. They're probably hot.” Indeed, some of them glowed red where the plasma-ball had burrowed through.

  
  


“Uh-huh. Alright, Sherlock – uh, Nancy Drew I mean – let's go.” They scrambled in after their prey.

  
  


“Scrambled” is the right word, too, because the OPT was expelling broken rock behind as they were trying to move forward toward it. Behind the OPT there seemed to be some sort of conveyor belt extending twenty feet back, and as wide as the machine itself – and therefore, as wide as the tunnel, too. Rubble was already forming a new mound at the end of the belt. Shego almost fell several times as she and Ron clambered over it onto the conveyor, and Ron had to keep his arm tight around her waist. Now, they were trying to run – or at least hobble – over a moving floor of debris. Finally they were within reaching distance of the tail-end of the OPT. But now what?

  
  


There was no ladder. There was nothing to grab onto. There was only a chute from which the broken debris poured taking up a the bottom third of the machine and a maze of pipes and cables above that. The chute stuck out four feet from the actual rear of the tunneler. It was six feet high. They'd have to get on top of that, by climbing on the rocks and gravel that were constantly being pushed out. _This_ was going to be fun. You'd have to be a monkey to -

  
  


“Shego, can you stay up on your own?” he asked, still stumbling over the moving floor of partially-crushed rocks.

  
  


“Uh... sure. I mean, I think so... where are you going?”

  
  


“I'm going to run up the side wall of the tunnel and jump onto the top of the chute there, then lift you onto it.” Even he couldn't believe he'd said that.

  
  


“I can't believe you said that.”

  
  


“Yeah, well... it probably won't work anyway, but it's all I got. You wanna keep walking along behind it? Fall down here and you'll be buried before you can even get up.”

  
  


“Okay Boss, show me what ya got. I've kind of been wondering, to tell the truth.”

  
  


Ron continued to assist Shego while he tried to force himself into the Mystical Monkey Power frame of mind – something he'd been practicing for awhile now, but certainly didn't feel he was ready to use. The state he was going for was something between “be the spoon” and “don't think about spoons”, with a healthy dose of “keep your eyes open but don't look at anything” thrown in for good measure. The funny thing about utilizing Mystical Monkey Power was that, after you'd done it, you had _no idea_ how you could have done such a thing. Well, he had that part down already; he had _no idea_ how he was going to get atop that chute while it belched a wall of rock and gravel  six feet high at him. Maybe the Monkey knew a way. He let go of Shego.

  
  


He stopped walking, only lifting his feet as if marching place, just to keep on top of the debris. Shego tried to turn to watch him, but couldn't spare the time and had to look back at her feet to keep from falling.

  
  


Ron had no plan, no idea what he was going to do. All he knew was where he wanted to be. He had a Goal, and nothing else. He began.

  
  


It was like running in a dream, where every motion seems as if it's retarded by some thick, invisible syrup, clawing at your arms and legs, keeping you from moving as you _know_ you should be able to move. The moving layer of rubble seemed almost to stop as he danced across it to the left wall of the tunnel, picking and choosing each footfall, noticing irregularities in the wall where he was likely to end up, seeing  opportunities in the other wall, in the ceiling... everywhere. So many choices – his only job was to pick the right one, the closest one, the one that would clear the way for the most following opportunities. He doubled over, running dog-like, feet following exactly wherever he planted his hands. And he had _time_ for all this! That rock was pretty big – but oh, it had a pointy part sticking up, that one over there was flat – it would be better. And beyond it, there was another, but a better choice was right over there...

  
  


He flexed his whole body, jumping as much with his torso as with the power of his legs, hitting the wall five feet up in a crouch, his own momentum keeping him there long enough to plan his next leap – to the ceiling. Traction might be a problem – but not if his angle of push were close enough to straight into the wall... another flex and he was upside down on the ceiling, flexing his body for the leap to the opposite wall and _leap_!, on it, ten feet up. This was so easy! He could do this all day! He pushed off again, using a chunk of rock still falling down from the chute for a temporary support for a hand-stand while he flipped his feet over his head to hit the left wall again feet-first, letting his weight compress his legs into a crouch and then, finally, _push!_ to roll onto the top of the chute itself, rolling head-shoulders-back-butt to end up on his feet again -

  
  


and smacking face-first into the solid-metal wall of hydraulic piping. Well, it had been a thing of beauty up to that point, anyway. Ron staggered backward, almost losing is balance and falling off the chute, before he came to his senses enough to grab onto one of the pipes. _Gah, THAT hurt... wait a minute... I'm here! I made it! ... What the heck did I do?_

“Hey, monkey-boy! A little help here?” Shego called to him. She was still a good six feet from the end of the chute, so close that the rocks were almost falling onto her feet. There was no way he could stretch that far, so he laid on his stomach and hooked his feet behind a pipe, trying desperately to reach her. A foot short. He couldn't reach any farther back, and she couldn't climb any more forward.

  
  


“Jump!” he shouted.

  
  


“What?” She could jump, sure, and grab onto his hand... no problem there. If she _missed_ his hands, however, she would fall face-first into the tumbling rocks, and most likely be crushed instantly. Even if he _did_ grab her, he was going to pull her up against an avalanche of rock? Not likely. What the hell did he mean, 'jump'?

  
  


“C'mon, Shego – we can do this! Trust me... I have an idea!”

  
  


_The buffoon has an idea. And I'm going to trust my life to it. How do I get myself into these things?_ Before she could talk herself out of it – the most logical thing to do – she jumped, forward and up.

  
  


Their hands locked at the wrists, and as soon as they did, Ron _pulled_ , Monkey fashion. His arms pulled, his legs pulled, and his stomach pulled, doubling him up like an inchworm. Shego's legs whipped up over her head backwards with the force and before she could figure out what was happening, she found herself standing on the chute, facing forward, straddling the blonde boy.

  
  


She had to breathe a few times before she could say, “Okay... _that_ was cool... _Damn_ Ron!”

  
  


“What? What'd I do?” he asked from behind and under her. They made a rather humorous picture: Ron's butt high in the air, his head down against the chute, his hands still hanging over the edge, and Shego standing above him, looking the other way, legs to either side of Ron's waist. She looked down at his butt and unable to resist, bent down slapped him hard.

  
  


“Hey!” he said, struggling to get to his feet after she'd stepped forward so that she no longer straddled him.

  
  


“Just getting your attention, Boss” she laughed. This “Team” business... it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was pretty neat. In fact, it was _damn fuckin-A titties_!

  
  


In the middle of the wall, there was a hatch to the interior, and Ron was making preparations to open it, until he felt a rather strong grip on his shoulder.

  
  


“Hold on there pardner. What do you think you're up to?” Shego asked.

  
  


“Well... We're here, we go inside, knock out the bad guys, rescue Bonnie and... uh...”

  
  


“Cindy” Shego offered.

  
  


“... and Cindy, and, uh, we're done! Right?”

  
  


“Wrong. Doy, you'd never make a thief, Boss. They don't know we're here, right? They're going somewhere, to do something. Our part now is to wait and watch. We might learn something useful... and besides, what if they're armed in there? And can _you_ drive this thing? Just calm down. Have a seat. Relax. It's Miller time.”

  
  


She had a point. She had several points. Kim would have probably said the same thing. Working with Shego... wasn't so bad. He sat with his back against the door.

  
  


“Uh, not there... over here, so we'll see it open and they won't see us, if anyone comes out for some reason.”

  
  


“Oh. Yeah... good idea” he said, getting up to sit next to where she was still standing. He leaned back against a bundle of cabling while she sat cross-legged looking down the platform. He tried to relax. With Shego right there. The weirdness of it hit him again...

  
  


“Shego? Why do you keep calling me 'Boss'?”

  
  


“It's my sarcastic side, I suppose. Want to go back to 'buffoon'?”

  
  


He frowned at her.

  
  


“Yeah, okay, I didn't mean that. And I gotta say, watching you ricochet around the tunnel like you did was fuck – I mean 'freaking' – amazing! And then when you pulled me up here? How did you do that, anyway?”

  
  


“Oh... that's the Mystical Monkey Power. Ugh. I gotta find another name for it... something without 'monkey' in it. I _hate_ monkeys!” he said, actually shivering a little.

  
  


“Uh-huh... You're a strange guy, Boss. What's the deal with the monkeys?”

  
  


He considered a moment, and then said, “What's _your_ deal with comets?”

  
  


Shego stared at him almost in disbelief for a second before she caught the connection. “Ah. Point taken.”

  
  


After a bit of uneasy silence, Ron realized he had something to ask, something kind of pressing; “So... you and Kim... back on again? It's getting hard to keep up...”

  
  


“Not that it's any concern of yours Boss... but yeah, back on again” she said more than a little defensively.

  
  


“Hey, she's been _my_ best friend for a whole lot longer than she's been your... girlfriend. Anyway, I'm glad it's on again. I think she's good for you”, he said casually, watching the rocks move along the conveyor beneath them.

  
  


_That_ struck Shego as an odd thing for him to say. Why should he care what was good for _her?_ Especially when the subject of the discussion was someone who _had_ been his girlfriend? Her forehead wrinkled in consternation.

  
  


“What do you mean 'she's good for me'? ”

  
  


He was surprised she didn't know. “Shego... I don't know you all that well, but I have seen quite a bit of you over the last few years. And not once did you ever smile. Smirk, yes – but not smile. Until you got with Kim. I dunno... you just seem... _happy_ – at least when it's on again. Before Kim, I don't think you did 'happy' much.”

  
  


That little bit of insight hit Shego right between the eyes, because it was spot-on true, and she knew it instantly, even though she'd never thought about it before. And to hear it from... “the buffoon”... Well, she had a lot to think about.

  
  


“Y'know something Boss? You're alright. For a boy, I mean.”

  
  


Now it was his turn to smirk.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  



	18. Chapter 18

The Girl Who Could Do Anything sat on her ass in a cushioned seat while her best friend since pre-K was going on a mission along with her green-skinned, plasma- wielding lesbian lover. This was just  friggin ' ducky. Even Monique had a job to do – Kim watched her making log entries and listened as she juggled three conversations at once. Everyone was in their element - Team Possible was at work. All except for Kim Possible herself. She sighed deeply and looked out the window at the Moana Loa volcano as the Gulfstream headed back toward  Hilo , on the other side of the island.

  
  


Well, at least she had Shego back, there was a single bright side to the day. She'd thought for sure she'd lost her... and why? Because she couldn't stand the thought of losing her. Her decision to force Shego to save herself against her will should be in the dictionary under 'irony'. See 'stupid'. And 'selfish'. Well, that did it: no matter what happened, no matter what circumstances – no matter what the sitch – she would never, ever command Shego again. Even if Shego asked her to for the sake of kinky fun. Never again. That boat has sailed. Elvis has left the building.

  
  


Kim suddenly felt a hundred percent better about things. She could do this... she could do _any_ thing, right? She waited for a break in Monique's conversations.

  
  


“Monique – what's the sitch?” _Monique – not 'Wade_ '... That felt kind of weird, actually.

  
  


“On line with the Hawaii Volcano Observatory, Kim. They have pretty much the whole island wired for underground sound, and we're trying to see if they can locate the digger, maybe track it. Know anything about seismic P-wave scattering?”

  
  


“Nada.”

  
  


“Me neither – but they all say it's simple, if I can just get them to _do_ it and stop trying to explain it to me! Scientists! Lord Almighty!” Monique rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

  
  


Kim could understand the other girl's exasperation – what with having a rocket-scientist for a father and a brain-surgeon for a Mom... they always wanted to tell you how  _everything_ worked. Once, when she'd been eight years old, she'd said to her father, “I don't  _care_ about 'pie', Dad! Just fix my bike's chain, okay?” and the hurt look on his face had nearly made her cry. So she learned how to tune it out, her way of reconciling to the situation.

  
  


“I feel your pain, Mon” Kim joked.

  
  


“Hold on GF,” Monique said, turning back to her logbook. She flipped a switch and began talking again, “A 'void'? What's a 'void'... Wade, you know what they're talking about?” another switch, “Can you convert that to lat/long for me? I don't know what WGS-84 means” and another switch, “Yes, and scuba gear too – sounds like she might need it. Uh... maybe three hours? Roger.” She glanced at Kim to let her know she was talking to her again, “They're saying the digger looks to be headed for a 'void' in the rock. Might be a secret base or something. You may be swimming to it. They're still trying to figure out what the bad-guys are up to, as well. The geeks are all being very quiet about it.”

  
  


“Like they're hiding something?”

  
  


“Heh, I doubt it. One thing I've learned about science-types - if they know something, they'll stomp all over each other to tell ya. No, I think they just don't know. They get real quiet when they don't know something. Whoops – hold on again” and Monique went back to work.

  
  


Kim let her.  _Scuba? Swimming? Yeah, I can do that. Maybe I'll be in this thing after all_ she thought hopefully.

  
  


Burns' voice boomed from the speakers, “Belts, tray tables – you know the drill. Landing in five minutes. Monique, Kim – get your stuff together, we'll be transferring to  helo once we get to, ah... Hilo.” Capt. Krache's laughter could be heard before Burns let go of the microphone.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“So, Bon. This what you had in mind?” Cin asked the girl who's wrists were zip-tied to her own, a leg of the workbench between them. Bonnie just gave her an evil glare – so _not_ the time to be joking. Agent Du was similarly zip-tied to a table leg, about two feet away. His head hung down in dejection.

  
  


Cin, on the other hand, was in oddly high spirits; she knew that their captor was the most gentlemanly of villains - Senor Senior, Sr. She was actually being kidnapped by Senor Senior, Sr! She'd read about him, of course, in the police bulletins, tabloids, Newsweek... but never expected to actually  _meet_ the world's richest super- villain. It was all she could do to keep from gushing at him and asking for his autograph. In tattoo. On her breasts. The only male Cin had crushed on  _ever_ , and she was being kidnapped by him! Squeeee!

  
  


She didn't really “Squeeee!” of course, she was too mature for such fan-girlish behavior. But she _felt_ like going “Squeeee!”, all the same.

  
  


“Would you stop grinning like an idiot, Cin? Do you have any _idea_ how much trouble we're in? These people have _guns!_ They've captured an agent of Global Justice! Do you know what that means?”

  
  


“Yeah” Cin replied excitedly, “It means we'll probably end up being thrown into a moat full of piranhas, or tied to a table with a big honkin' laser slowly – ever so slowly – getting closer and closer, or maybe -”

  
  


“Trapped in a room with a slanting floor that is slowly filling with liquid nitrogen?” Senor Senior cut in.

  
  


“Or, how about helium?” Cin suggested, beaming at him.

  
  


“Hmmm. Yes, I like the way you think, Miss Cin. But how would you escape?”

  
  


While Cin thought about it, Bonnie said under her breath, “I do not _BELIEVE_ this...”

  
  


“Chains, hanging from the ceiling. We could jump up – they're _almost_ out of reach, of course -”

  
  


“Of course” Senor Senior said approvingly.

  
  


“ - and then swing like Tarzan to the nearest window!”

  
  


“But what about me? Will I get off scot-free?”

  
  


“Oh. Well... how about this: I could swing over to the door of the room – that'd be on the down-hill side, right?”

  
  


“I'd imagine it would, yes...”

  
  


“And open it, flooding your lair and foiling your dastardly plan with the very thing you were trying to use to kill me!”

  
  


Senor Senior clapped his hands, “Bravo, young Cin! It _is_ nice to meet someone who actually understands the spirit of these things. I commend your aptitude! I only wish there were more like you... like us. For instance, I'm afraid Agent Du here would never appreciate an elaborate near-death situation followed by a breath-taking and clever escape at the last minute. Would you, Mr. Du...”

  
  


“How did you get the GJ comm codes? How did you intercept my calls to Dr. Director's office? How -” Agent Du began a long list.

  
  


“You see? All business, no imagination. Tut tut, Agent Du. That would be telling” Senor Senior said archly, “Miss Cin, I must apologize for the crude method of restraint we've used... Zip-ties. Ugh. It really is most embarrassing...”

  
  


“Oh, no, Senor Senior, Senior, sir. They're great! Easy to use, impossible to escape, and you can carry a dozen of 'em in a pocket! They're the most practical way -”

  
  


Bonnie interrupted, “Have you totally lost your _MIND_ , Cin?”

  
  


Senor Senior chuckled, “Well, yes, that's just it, you see. They _are_ practical. Practical,  utilitarian, and cheap. Again, I apologize... I wanted to bring thumb-cuffs, but I'm afraid I let Senor Senior, Junior choose. I do worry about that boy. He seems to have no appreciation of class whatsoever...”

  
  


“Oh, I know! I mean – uh, I meant... uhm...” Cin stammered, chagrined at the unintended insult.

  
  


Senor Senior laughed out loud at her embarrassment, “Mr. White, remove Miss Cin's restraints. But _do_ keep an eye on her, won't you? She shall be our guest. ”

  
  


Cin felt so honored her cheeks burned, “Oh... Oh, it's just Cin. Not 'Miss Cin'...”

  
  


“Very well, 'Cin'. Mr. White?” he nodded to one of the rifle-toting henchmen, “Today?”

  
  


Cin – almost ready to explode – finally couldn't help herself: “Mr. Senor Senior Senior, sir? Can... can I have your autograph?”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Alright Kim – I've transferred way points and navigation tips into your Communicator, so you should-”

  
  


Kim interrupted her, “ _Kim_ municator.”

  
  


“- be able... pardon me?”

  
  


“We call them... uh...” Suddenly the thought of insisting that Monique refer to it as a “Kim” -municator seemed a little silly. And a lot conceited. “Never mind. So how long will my air last?”

  
  


“On your back – about half an hour, I'm told. In the scooter, about four hours more. I'm supposed to remind you to use the scooter's air first – what's on your back is just for emergencies. Oh, and you'll be unable to communicate the whole time, by the way. Wade says he _might_ find a way to get information to you once you're in the lair – but text only, no voice, and strictly one-way. So check your Comm once in a while for messages. Okay, flashlights?”

  
  


“Check, both of 'em work.”

  
  


“Cutting-torch?”

  
  


“Check.”

  
  


“Utility pack?”

  
  


“Right here in it's waterproof box.”

  
  


“Communicator?”

  
  


“Check.”

  
  


“Two thousand pounds of air in your tank and the scooter?”

  
  


“Check.”

  
  


Monique stood back and looked at Kim decked out in her equipment. The pressure on her shoulders from the backpack was obviously causing the girl pain, and she wasn't doing a very good job of hiding the fact, either. “Are you sure you can do this, Kim? I can tell you're already hurting...”

  
  


“It'll be okay once I'm in the water, Mon. Thanks, though. Okay, I'm ready.” Kim laid on her stomach on the scooter, holding on tight at the foot-posts as well as the hand-grips. She sighed – another mode of transportation obviously designed by a man. She had to lift her chest slightly off the support to keep from painfully squashing her breasts. Monique tapped Burns on the shoulder, and he got up to run the crane that would lower Kim the thirty feet into the Pacific Ocean, half a mile from the Kona coast where the lava-tube opened to the sea under seventy feet of water.

  
  


Monique watched her go with more than a little nervousness. That was Kim Possible down there – alone. Not “Team Possible”. It just didn't feel right. At least Ron had Shego with him. _Note to self_ she thought, _splitting up the Team is a Bad Idea._ Well, there was nothing she could do for Kim now, not even talk to her. She sat back down next to her portable Comm console and went back to work if only to try and stop thinking about Kim down there, underwater and soon underground as well, alone and out-of-touch in the darkness. She shivered.

  
  


“Wade? What's the sitch?” she asked.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


It was getting _hot_ down there! Ron had already stripped off his sweater and shirt, and rolled up his pant-legs as well, in an effort to cool off. Shego, in her heavy cotton jumpsuit, couldn't really do much except unzip it a little. She had nothing on underneath. But the heat wasn't their only problem.

  
  


“Hey Shego?” He had a feeling she already knew what he was going to say.

  
  


“Boss?”

  
  


“You, uh, notice how the pile is getting closer and closer to us as we go on?” The end of the conveyor belt used to be in front of the filled-up portion of the tunnel behind them. Now a good two feet of it was buried underneath.

  
  


“Uh-huh. Well, if worse comes to worst, we can always try our luck busting in through the door there.”

  
  


“Yeah. I figure we've got about four hours before it gets here.”

  
  


“You worked it out? I'm impressed. Me, I never think that far ahead” Shego admitted, wiping the sweat from her eyes. The heat was just getting intolerable, and there was only one thing she could do about it. “Okay Ron, let's just get this over with – I can't stand another minute in these coveralls, so I'm going to at least take the top down.”

  
  


“I won't look...” he said awkwardly. He could see she was burning up in that suit.

  
  


“You've already seen me in less. And we don't have time for polite embarrassment here” she said, unzipping the suit down to her waist and pulling herself out of the sleeves, “So go ahead. You get one minute to stare. After that, I'll have to slap you.” She made a point of not looking his direction.

  
  


So... he stared. It was really kind of amazing that dark-green nipples could look so... _natural_ , on somebody. It was also kind of amazing how long a single minute could last, under certain circumstances.

  
  


“Okay, that's enough, Ron. Hope you got your fill.” She looked back at him, her signal for him to start looking somewhere else.

  
  


Ron resumed staring at the back of the tunnel.

  
  


Ron was faintly smiling, of course, and that made Shego a little mad. _Damn teenage boy... what's his problem, anyway? Half the population of the world has breasts... more than half, actually. Why does he keep smiling like that? Does he think he has something 'on me' now?_ “Alright, Boss. You can wipe that smile off your face. Or do I need to do it for you?”

  
  


He dared to look back at her, “Sorry. It's just that... that birthmark, or scar, or whatever under you right... uh... looks just like a Nike swoosh. I didn't realize you were such a fan of athletic shoes.” He chuckled and looked away again. “Other than that, you're a beautiful woman, Shego. Thanks for the... for letting me... Uhm, thanks.”

  
  


She knew the birthmark he was talking about – she'd always thought it looked like a check-mark. Like she'd been stamped 'A-OK' when she'd left the factory. But a corporate logo? That was a new one, and yeah, it _did_ kinda look like that. As for the compliment, well, doy, she already knew that, but it surprised her to hear him say it, all the same. In fact, all things considered, it surprised her rather a lot. How did he keep doing that?

  
  


“Boss... you keep hitting me out of left-field like that, and I _may_ have to revise my opinion of you...” Her smirk had returned.

  
  


“Same here” as did his.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Geez-us. Is she always like this?” Will asked Bonnie, still zip-tied to the workbench with him. Listening to Cin gush about Senor Senior's accomplishments was getting on his nerves.

  
  


“I wouldn't know. This is our first time getting kidnapped by a super-villain. How many is it for you?” she replied cynically. Truth was, it was a little embarrassing, the way Cin was acting – like Senor Senior, Senior was a rock-star or something. And Cin was his groupie.

  
  


But the cynicism rolled right off the GJ agent, “Oh, maybe three or four... depending on what you mean by 'kidnapped'. Usually they're not aware that I'm around. This is a first.” He tried to change his position a little, and scratched his nose against the steel brace in front of him. Nothing makes you aware of itching like knowing you have no way to scratch it. “That was a pretty good kick you gave me back there. You've had training?” He was trying to make small-talk. Talking was better than having to listen to Cin and Senor Senior rattle on.

  
  


“Oh... well, a little. Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't know you were a good-guy...”

  
  


He sighed, “Yeah, and _I_ didn't know I was a 'bad-guy', either. So I guess we're even.”

  
  


“So he tricked you into stealing this thing?” she asked, putting the pieces together.

  
  


“Hook, line, and sinker. I can't imagine how he did it... he would have _had_ to know things he shouldn't have been able to know. We're going to have to do a lot of bug-sweeping when I get back. Residences as well as offices. Even if he had a mole inside the GJ, the mole couldn't have known... he's good, I'll give 'im that.” Agent Du didn't mention that he'd also been manipulated by his desire for recognition and fame, although it was clear to him now.

  
  


“You think you _will_ get out of this, then?” He seemed awfully confident. Bonnie was still thinking about the pool full of piranhas.

  
  


“Oh, yeah. Senor Senior never actually _kills_ anyone – doesn't even try. To him, this is all a big game, something to occupy his retirement years. Whatever his scheme is, it's unlikely that anyone will even get hurt, at least not directly.”

  
  


Cin was still carrying on: “... and that time you stole a whole pyramid! That was _so_ awesome – the way you set up the diversion by saying you were going to open a strip-club in Cairo, then while all the people were protesting and the press was watching them, you took a national treasure right out from under their noses!”

  
  


Senor Senior chuckled, “Yes, I _am_ rather proud of that one. A strip club. It was quite naughty of me, wasn't it?”

  
  


Will Du sighed again, “You have a very unusual girlfriend there, Bonnie.”

  
  


Bonnie's eyebrows rose at the word 'girlfriend'. What did he mean by that? How much did he know? _HOW_ would he know? Or was he just assuming, because Cin looked so boyish and she... what a jerk!

  
  


“How do you know she's my _girlfriend_?!” she asked a bit too loudly, incensed at what she assumed was his presumption.

  
  


By chance, Cin and Senor Senior had paused in their banter when she'd said that. An eerie silence followed, and once again – just as they had at Red Lobster – everyone looked at her.

  
  


“Oh, gaaawd... I did it again...” she said hanging her head.

  
  


“Ten feet to the lair, Senor Senior” said the henchman in what passed for “the driver's seat”.

  
  


Senor Senior, Senior stood up from his chair, “Ah, excellent. Well, I daresay we've _all_ had a long day. I'll have you shown to your rooms once we get there. You can clean up, change your clothes... we'll meet for dinner at seven.”

  
  


“Dinner?” Cin and Bonnie said simultaneously. They hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, excepting a handful of chocolate-dipped strawberries each.

  
  


“Yes” he said, and then seemed to think of something, “And those who are late will receive no fruit cup!”

  
  


Cin clapped her hands together, “ _Young_ _Frankenstein_! Am I right?”

  
  


“Indeed you are, my dear. I believe I will sit you next to me at the head of the table, Miss – I mean, 'Cin'. I'm becoming quite fond of you.”

  
  


Cin actually bounced on her toes, but at least she didn't 'squeeee'.

  
  


* * *

 


	19. Chapter 19

Kim had always liked missions where she got to dive. She liked it underwater. It was so... quiet, and peaceful. Of course, those dives had always been in broad daylight, and this was early evening, so it was quiet, peaceful, and _dark_. Below her all she could see was a slate-gray void. She'd been told it was seventy feet down to the lava-tube opening, and that it would take her a good hour in the tube before she reached the Lair – if all went well. Her Kimmuni – her  COmmunicator, locked into the “dashboard” of the scooter showed that she was right on target, so she gently lifted both foot-posts until she was heading straight down, at half speed. Into the darkness. Did this thing have lights?

  
  


Yes, of course the thing had lights. And something else too – an orange button marked “BLOA”. Well, _that_ explained a lot... This was GJ equipment, so God knew what it did. Probably some sort of weapon or something, it couldn't be an emergency thing, or it would be a red button, surely... She wished she had someone to ask.

  
  


There was the bottom, emerging out of the darkness. Everything was dark-blue, no other color to be seen. Except for a black hole in the blueness. _That must be the tunnel... well, goodbye daylight._

  
  


The opening of the tunnel was about fifty feet across, a gaping maw of blackness that lead, eventually, to the heart of the volcano that had created it. Moana Loa. The Island Queen volcano, to which most of the Big Island owed it's existence. 13,680 feet above sea-level, and another 16,400 feet down to the sea floor. All together, one of the largest volcanoes in the world. And it was active. And she was inside it.

  
  


She tapped the screen to set her first way point. Upon entering the mouth, she suddenly saw why she needed way points in the first place... it wasn't just one long continuous tunnel: it was a maze of tunnels. Twisting and winding, intersecting and diverging again, it was like a braid, created by millions of years of lava flows, each taking it's own route down the steep-sided slope. If it hadn't been mapped, if Kim hadn't had an inertial-navigation system – or if she lost it – she would be doomed.

  
  


Kim was not claustrophobic, but she gained a new respect for those who were. Suddenly she understood what it must be like to feel like the walls were closing in on you, and you couldn't get out. To be trapped here would be nightmarish.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The dining-table was laid out in the main room of the lair. Opposite the table stood a bank of industrial-looking controls of some sort. One of he panels was fire-engine red, and displayed a double-throw knife-switch with large white letters underneath that said “Self-Destruct”. Closer to them were six racks of “computer equipment”, circa 1958: reel-to-reel tape decks and panels with lots of blinking lights. Orange-suited workers appeared to be busy at various places, some with clipboards. At the far end of the room, the entire wall, thirty feet high, was taken up by a waterfall of red-hot lava, the rumbling of which could be felt through the floor.

  
  


“Miss Saychenal will join us shortly,” Senor Senior told the others at the table as they waited for the food to be brought in, “I had to make some last-minute... alterations to her wardrobe.” He looked at Bonnie and smiled conspiratorially, “I think you will appreciate her attire.”

  
  


“Whatever” Bonnie replied. She wasn't going to play this game, but she did have to admit that her own “attire” _was_ quite...  smexy. A white, midriff-baring blouse with black piping around every edge, and a mini-skirt so short that her matching underwear might as well be considered part of the package, since everyone was going to see it anyway. _At least he didn't make us wear go-go boots – I don't think I could've stood that_ Bonnie thought, _I bet Cin's gonna freak at having to wear a mini-skirt. This should be fun... maybe it'll cool her off a little on Mr. Super-villain._

  
  


Shortly, Cin appeared from a hallway, and her guard took up his position off to the side of the table. Bonnie's mouth hung open.

  
  


Keeping the same style, but in radically different mode, Cin was dressed in suit-pants, double-breasted blazer, and a vest. All with the same black piping at every seam, every edge. All she lacked was a gold watch-fob and she could have just walked in from Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Shiny white shoes completed the picture at one end, while her own blonde hair did the same for the other. Cin looked  _good_ in that outfit.

  
  


Senor Senior got up from his chair at the head of the table and pulled out the chair to his right. “Welcome, number seven. Please join us.”

  
  


“I am not a number!” Cin replied, smiling but trying to sound angry at the same time, “I am a woman! _The Prisoner_ , except in reverse. I _love_ it!” She walked up to the table and allowed Senor Senior to push her chair in, an odd mixture of chivalry and  androgyny. Even Agent Du was smiling. There was no denying that Senor Senior, Senior had _Class_ , with a capital 'C'.

  
  


“Hey, Bon” Cin turned to her girlfriend, and began checking out what she was wearing, “What kind of outfit... did... he...” Cin's voice trailed in direct proportion to how low her eyes were gazing. Above what seemed like _miles_ of thigh, the small white triangle of Bonnie's panties showed below the skirt – panties with black piping, of course. “Whoa.” Cin had been thinking about little else but food since Senor Senior had mentioned 'dinner' in the tunneler, but now she forgot all about it.

  
  


Until he brought it up again, “Ah. Dinner is served. In keeping with out surroundings, I've had a traditional Hawaiian meal prepared. I hope everybody likes poi...” Pints of purplish gelatinous sauce were set in front of each of them. “As I understand it, the idea is to put on _everything_ , and then eat the rest as dessert. I have to admit, I'm rather anxious about it myself – I've never had poi. I'd better like it, or I'll have the cook thrown into the lava pit! Mwahahahahahah! Mwahahahahahah!” Cin was beaming and giggling, Du was smiling, but Bonnie was just giving him a look of “what the fuck?”, so he cleared his throat and sat down.

  
  


“Mr. Senor Senior, sir? Where's -” Cin began, only to be cut off.

  
  


“Please, Cin, just 'Senor Senior'. Saying 'Mr. Senor Senior' is like saying 'Mr. Mr. Senior'. One will do.” He said chiding her in a way that could only be labeled 'affectionately'.

  
  


“Oh, I'm sorry – Senor Senior, sir – where's... uh, Senor Junior?”

  
  


“Yes. Well.” He obviously didn't enjoy answering, “I'm afraid he couldn't make it. It seems he had an audition. He claims it's a major entertainment 'happening', as he put it. Something called ' _American Idol_ '. Have you ever heard of it?”

  
  


Bonnie snickered, and received an elbow in the side from Cin, “No... no I don't think so... but, I don't really get into tv that much...” Cin lied.

  
  


The snicker did not escape the attention of Senor Senior, though, but he decided he'd rather not know, and merely sighed somewhat sadly.

  
  


“Uh... this is a wonderful lair, Senor Senior! Is that an actual wall of lava over there?” Cin asked, trying desperately to change the subject she had brought up.

  
  


But apparently she asked the wrong question, because Senor Senior shot her a look of disappointment that cut right through her fan-girl heart.

  
  


Before Cin could recover, Agent Du asked, “Senor Senior – would it be rude to discuss how you managed to trick me into stealing the OPT for you?”

  
  


Senor Senior seemed happy to talk about it, and Cin at her food despondently, in silence.

  
  


_You idiot!_ Cin thought,  _Of COURSE it's not an actual wall of lava! We'd all be roasted alive if it was an actual wall of lava! GAWD how can you be so stupid... Next thing you'll ask him is what those ancient computers are doing... He must think... oh... hell..._

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Senor Senior, Sr, tapped on his wine-glass with his fork, “And now we have come to the point where I tell you about my evil plan. If you'll watch the screen...” He pressed a button on the arm-rest of his chair.

  
  


And steel bands clamped shut around the arm-rests of all the other chairs. Had anyone actually had their arms _on_ the arm-rests, they would have been immobilized.

  
  


Senor Senior sighed, “Mr Brown! I thought I said the top _left_ button was to be the chair restraints! That was the top- _right_!”

  
  


One of the orange suited men came abashedly forward, “Oh... I get it, if you're _sitting_ in the chair... y'see, I thought -”

  
  


“You are fired, Mr. Brown. Mr. Green? Take him to the lagoon. See that he has one and a half hours of air and let him swim out.”

  
  


“But, Senor Senior... it takes at least two hours to swim out -” Mr. Brown complained.

  
  


“Then I guess you'd better swim fast, eh, Mr. Brown? And Mr. Green? To give Mr. Brown proper motivation, release the Tiger shark!” He paused and thought, then said, “Uhm... and you'd better not tell me we don't _have_ a Tiger shark or you will be joining him.”

  
  


“Oh, yes sir, we have a Tiger shark. Came in yesterday. Big one too! All the way from-”

  
  


“Yes yes, Mr. Green... very well. See to it at once.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Kim could see a glow ahead. Lights. Her map confirmed she was close to the void that must be the lair. Just whose lair it was, she didn't yet know. She shut off the scooter's headlamps and slowed to two knots.

  
  


From the entrance into the lagoon the glow resolved into individual flood lights above the surface of the water, and she could some sort of dock. Some sort of boat – strike that – it would have to be a submarine – was tied up to it. Should she disable it? Should she hide in it? Should she destroy it? No, that would give her away. Best for no one to know she was there. Best to sneak in. She couldn't see activity going on above, so she slowly maneuvered the scooter out into the lagoon itself.

  
  


Those floodlights were _bright_! She could see every detail of everything around her, every rock on the bottom, every bolt in the submarine's hull, but she had to hold her hand over the top of her mask to cut the glare. She could even see her own shadow on the lagoon floor, ten feet below.

  
  


That's when she saw the other shadow. Her scooter was twelve feet long – the other shadow was easily twenty, probably twenty-five. She looked up.

  
  


Not all sharks are created equal. Nurse sharks only eat shellfish and squid, although they look suitably “sharkey”. Dogfish aren't even called “sharks”, although technically they are. The largest sharks in the world – Whale sharks – eat nothing but microscopic plankton and shrimp. But of all sharks, three stand out: Great Whites, Bulls, and Tigers. Everything about them screams “mean and ugly”. They are large, they are aggressive, they have big mouths. They are man-eaters. A Tiger shark was looking at Kim.

  
  


She twisted the throttle all the way back – top speed 30 knots – and aimed for the vertical wall of the lagoon. The Tiger followed. The scooter built up speed at an agonizingly slow rate , but the shark seemed to be in no hurry. It would wait until it's prey reached the surface, and then come up from underneath, as sharks are wont to do. Sharks seldom hurry. They seldom need to.

  
  


Kim and her scooter breached the surface of the lagoon like a marlin, flying out of the water and landing with a bone-jarring fiber-glass _crunch!_ on the solid rock, then sliding another ten feet on the flat ledge.

  
  


Probably the last thing Kim had needed was a 'bone-jarring _crunch_ '. Her eyes squeezed shut with pain.

  
  


When she opened them, she saw four men in orange jump-suits – three of them with rifles – staring at her. _SO not the sneaking in_ she thought.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Senor Senior, Sr., explained his evil scheme to the table: using the OPT, explosive charges were to be set along a fault-line along an undersea ledge along the slope of the Moana Loa volcano. The resulting displacement of water would set up a pressure-wave perpendicular to the slope, and aimed at Tokyo, Japan. Upon reaching the shelf-slope of that tectonic plate, the pressure-wave would assume the character of a tsunami. That's what tsunamis were. That's what _all_ tsunamis were.

  
  


Such events happened naturally from time to time. Oceanographers were still debating which tsunami had resulted from the last great earthquake in Hawaii, and just which part of which island slid to create it. Fairly recent research with side-scanning sonar showed that at  _some_ point in the past – but no one knew how far back – pieces of slope the size of Rhode Island had broken free and rolled down to the sea floor, probably creating a tsunami a hundred feet high on some unlucky coast.

  
  


The actual destruction from this slide would not be so great. For one thing, an extensive network of P-wave detectors at random places in the open ocean (the Pacific Tsunami Warning Network) would provide Japan with warning ahead of time, if they chose to listen to it. So far, the network had never had an opportunity to show what it could do, so it was likely that when it _did_ go off, it would be ignored – as most such alarms are. But Japan had a long history of earthquakes, volcanoes, and tsunamis. They were about as prepared as any nation could be for natural disaster. Japan is unlucky that way.

  
  


But while the _real_ damage might not be so spectacular, the _perception_ of doom would be overwhelming to the financial markets. Because Senor Senior had timed his disaster to just _after_ the closing of the Japanese stock market. By the time the  Nikkie Index went back up the next morning, it would be too late. If you knew about such a thing ahead of time, there were myriad ways to make a killing. Senior Senior, Sr, only knew of a few thousand... but that would be enough.

  
  


At least, that's what he said.

  
  


* * *

 


	20. Chapter 20

“We _have_ to find a way to talk to them, Wade! They're completely cut off down there!” Monique was becoming exasperated at the boy. She'd have thought he, of all people, would understand the need for communication. After all, the boy had basically spent all 10 years of his life in either his bedroom, or the GJ computer lab.

  
  


“I'm working on it! I'm working on it! I think there may be a way, but we have to get permission to use the Navy's Ultra Low Frequency Array – the one they use to talk to nuclear subs underwater. There's a _chance_ that-”

  
  


“You got their number handy?” Monique asked, pen at the ready.

  
  


While she was doing that, the helicopter landed just outside the Hawaii Volcano Observatory, situated right next to the caldera of Kilauea volcano - Moana Loa's temperamental little sister on the Big Island. Not nearly as big, but _much_ more active. A pair of scientists waited for Monique on the helipad.

  
  


“You must be Monique” the man of the pair said, “I'm Dr. Laurel Mitako, and this is Dr. Elizabeth Hardi. First time to the beautiful Big Island?” That was a scientist's idea of a joke. Where they were standing was about as far from the usual posters of waterfalls, lush jungle, and turquoise beaches as could be imagined. Nothing lived here. They might as well have been on the moon. From the Observatory, they could look down into the caldera of the volcano itself – a sea of absolute blackness that barely even reflected the sun. Far off in the distance, they could make out the edge of the Kilauea crater, steam rising all around it. “Beautiful Hawaii” this was not.

  
  


“Yes, it is. And it's not what I expected... You said on the phone that you may have come up with an idea what the bad-guys are up to?” Monique asked as they led her inside.

  
  


The vulcanologists brought up a computer display showing a 3-D “stair-step” seismic section of the area from the supposed 'lair' to the sub sea slope of the island itself. Monique opened up the mic on her headset so that Wade and Dr. Director would be able to hear everything that was said.

  
  


“Our idea,” Dr. Hardi began, “is that they intend to set off an undersea landslide. With the – what was it called? OBD? - tunneling machine, it would be fairly easy to burrow into the soft basalt and set charges at appropriate places along the fault-lines you see here.” She pointed to a just barely discernible pattern in the squiggly lines on the screen. Barely discernible to someone trained in reading seismic displays, that is...

  
  


“All I see is wiggly lines...” Monique admitted.

  
  


“I _told_ you we should go straight to the interpretation, Lizz...” Laurel said.

  
  


“Yes, Doctor, but if we _did_ that, we'd just have to explain how we arrived at that interpretation, and thus we'd be looking at this anyway...”

  
  


“This is not a peer-review - she is not likely to ask us to defend our methods, in this circumstance.”

  
  


“Oh, well, excuse me, Dr. 'Dear _Nature_ magazine - Please post the following _list_ of retractions to my article'. I like to get things right the _first_ time.”

  
  


Monique tried to break in, “Uh, Doctors?...”

  
  


“You know perfectly well why that happened! They wanted that article _two months_ before I'd even collected my notes on-”

  
  


“Doctors?” Monique tried again.

  
  


“Whatever. All I know is that I _my_ paper not only got into _Nature_ , but _also_ passed the review of the Journal-”

  
  


“DOCTORS!!” Monique finally yelled. They both looked at her as trying to figure out who she was and what she was doing there. “So, they're going to try to create an undersea landslide? What's the point?”

  
  


“Oh, well, you see,” Dr. Mitako tried to collect his thoughts, “the water displaced by the landslide will create a pressure-wave – a P-wave – in the water, which will then travel along the ocean basin until it hits something in its way, where the water will then pile up into a tsunami. Remember what happened in Indonesia? Like that.”

  
  


The Indonesian tsunami had devastated millions of acres and killed tens of thousands. It had been on the news for weeks, yes, she remembered that. “Okay, so... where would _this_ tsunami hit?”

  
  


“Hit?” Dr. Mitako looked surprised at the question, “Well... I hadn't actually-”

  
  


“I have” Dr. Hardi sad somewhat smugly, “We can assume the wave will propagate normal to the slope of the slide, and the great-circle path will bring it right onto Japan. And by the way,” she went on, and perhaps showing off a bit, “the first wave will 'hit' about six and a half to seven hours after the sea slide. Assuming an average speed of 600 miles per hour, of course.”

  
  


“When did you work all that out?” Dr. Mitako wanted to know.

  
  


“While you were drawing your damn interpretation, is when I worked all that out. Really, Laurel, you _must_ learn to work under pressure. Once Kilauea blows again, you won't be able to tell it 'Oh, wait a minute, I have to organize my notes and put together a proposal for-' ”

  
  


“You're never going to let me forget that are you? Look, they didn't _ask_ me to chart the land path for that flow... All they _asked_ was where it was going go dump into the sea! So naturally-”

  
  


“- naturally you completely ignored the big, orange blocks on the map that -”

  
  


“I wasn't _looking_ at that map! I was _looking_ at the  topo map! And _it_ doesn't show-”

  
  


“ _DOCTORS!!_ ” Monique cried again, even louder than before, “So, about the slide, there'll be an earthquake? Won't that make it kind of dangerous down there?”

  
  


Dr. Mitako was back in his element now, “Oh, no, there'll be no earthquake. This isn't a tectonic thing, this is tiny – relative to earthquake forces – explosions along a fault line. If you could bring up the interpretation, dear?” he asked Dr. Hardi. She made a show of reaching down with one finger and clicking the computer's mouse – as if to say _Why, yes, I believe I know how to do that... shall I do that for you now? SO glad I could help... Asshole._

  
  


“Now, this thin red line here,” he pointed to the screen with his felt-tip marker, leaving little black streaks on it in the process – Dr. Hardi winced each time did so, “is the fault we believe he is-”

  
  


“Or 'she'” Lizz interrupted.

  
  


“... the fault we believe he _or she_ is targeting. As you can see, _here,_ ” another mark on the screen, “it's sort of like knocking the kickstand out from under a bicycle. This entire shelf here,” another mark, “will then proceed to-”

  
  


Dr. Hardi suddenly grabbed the marker from Dr. Mitako's hand and threw it across the room. Then she looked back down at the screen as if nothing had happened.

  
  


“Uh... yes,” Dr. Mitako continued pointing with his finger now, “will then proceed to slide down this slope ending up here. About twenty thousand metric tons of water will be displaced in the space of fifteen seconds, creating a P-wave of approximately a ten-to-the-eighth dynes.”

  
  


All of which meant nothing to Monique. “Is that a lot?”

  
  


Dr. Hardi answered, “On the other side of the Pacific basin – and we'll just say that _all_ that energy makes it there, because most of it will – the kinetic energy will be transferred into potential energy... or at least, about seventy-five percent of it will, which would equate to a wave about... oh... ten meters high. Around thirty feet.”

  
  


Monique stared at the screen while that sunk in. A thirty-foot high wave. Two stories. Two and a half stories, more like. “So that's bad...” she summarized.

  
  


“Fairly bad, yes. Bigger waves have happened in historical time, but nothing that large has impacted Japan since feudal times” Dr. Hardi said, happy to be able to make a historical reference in front of the other Doctor.

  
  


“How do you know that?” again, Dr. Mitako was curious.

  
  


“BSc in Oceanography, minor in Asian History. Cal-Tech” she answered. Monique's eyes narrowed – here they went again...

  
  


“You never told me you had a BSc in Oceanography...”

  
  


“You never asked.”

  
  


“Yes... well, being as I'm the one who initially hired you, I'd have thought that -”

  
  


“You _hired_ me because I came in wearing open-toed shoes and no bra...”

  
  


“Now that's not fair! I checked your credentials! I read your papers! There was _nothing_ inappropriate about the interview process, and you know it! The rest of the staff all agreed that -”

  
  


Dr. Hardi smiled, “ _You_ hired me because I wore open-toed shoes and no bra. Admit it, Laurel.” Dr.  Mitanko stood with a finger raised in objection, yet silent. Then he looked down at Dr. Hardi's sandal-encased feet, then back up to her chest, and finally her eyes. And then back at the staring Monique.

  
  


“Are there any questions, Monique?”

  
  


Monique shook herself out of her daze. In fact, she _did_ have a question. If only she could remember what it was. Oh, yeah. She pointed at a thick red line on the screen “What's this line for?”

  
  


Dr. Mitako answered, “Oh, that's a major but un-connected fault. I doubt he... or _she_... would want to blow that one. For one thing, it would destroy the void they're using as a base of operations.”

  
  


_So it would destroy the lair. Don't lairs usually get destroyed during these things?_ Monique thought.  _Dr. Drakken's ice fortress... the lair made of cheese... Monkey Fist's island lair... 'Lairs' always seem to get destroyed..._

  
  


“I see what you mean” she said diplomatically. She definitely did _not_ want to start an argument with these two... scientists. “But what would happen if they _did_ blow up the void?”

  
  


Dr. Hardi took over, “Oh, well... about sixteen times the displacement... so that would be about four times as much energy... so that would make the wave over a hundred feet high, in that case. Otherwise, everything the same. Just a bigger wave.”

  
  


“Four times bigger? Over a hundred feet high? Would hit Japan in about six and a half hours?”

  
  


“Correct on all counts.”

  
  


“You get that, Wade? You're hearing this?” Monique asked, still looking at the screen.

  
  


“We got it, Monique. Dr. Director just ran out of the room... and I mean _ran_ out of the room. So yeah, we heard.”

  
  


Monique turned to the doctors, “Thank you, Dr. Hardi, Dr. Mitako. I think I have work to do now. Dr. Director thanks you on behalf of the GJ, too. Now, I'd better get going...”

  
  


“Anything to be of assistance, Monique. We _are_ government-funded, after all, so we're all on the same side here. If you need anything else, you have our number” Dr. Hardi said.

  
  


“Yes, I do. Thanks again” and Monique double-timed it back to the waiting helicopter.

  
  


“That was a low blow about the shoes and bra, Lizz...” Laurel said when the teenager was out of ear-shot.

  
  


“I know. I'm such a bad girl... So, where was it you're taking me tonight?”

  
  


Laurel put a hand in his jacket pocket, just to make sure the engagement ring was still there, “Oh, some place special. You'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I have a monitor to clean off before someone starts nagging me about it.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“So what's the word on communications, Wade?”

  
  


“Yeah, we can do it. It's gonna be expensive – and Dr. Director said she's going to have to call in a lot of favors, but we can talk to them. Sort of.”

  
  


“Sort of?”

  
  


“We can send a message to Shego or Ron – they have the new Communicators – at the rate of one character in about ninety seconds. That means it will take about an hour for them to receive a short, _short_ text message. But we have Comm. Sort of.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Ah, another guest!” Senor Senior chortled, “Kim Possible, teenage heroine. You've arrived late, though... No fruit-cup for you!”

  
  


“Senor Senior, Senior. This is the part where you give up” Kim repeated oft-used lines for lack of anything more clever to say.

  
  


“Ha! Ah yes... I believe the proper response is 'You believe you are all that, Kim Possible – but you are not!', is that right? Well, I'm afraid that just doesn't fit – neither me nor the situation. I believe you know our other guests?”

  
  


Kim hadn't been paying much attention, she'd been busy scoping out the room; number and placement of guards, potential exits, and most especially, the big red switch that said “Self Destruct” underneath. But now she saw them, “Bonnie, Cin... at least you're all right. And Will? What are you doing here?”

  
  


“It's a long story, Kim... and more than a little embarrassing. I'll tell ya later” Agent Du said, sounding rather depressed. He wasn't relishing having to tell that story. To anyone. Ever. Instead of 'book-movie deal' his mis-adventure now had the flavor of a 'comic-strip'.

  
  


“Well... nice outfits, anyway. Senor Senior always did have taste. I suppose I'll get the mini-skirt version...”

  
  


Senor Senior stood, “Actually, I _do_ have one already tailored to your measurements, Miss Possible – but I'm afraid it will have to wait for another day, we have run out of time. Mr. White? Please escort Cin and Bonnie to the OPT. Have Mr. Blue keep an eye on them. I suppose restraints will be in order... zip-ties... Lord help me...” he added sadly. “Mr. Black and Mr. Grey – take Miss Possible and Agent Du to the lagoon. You know what to do.”

  
  


Agent Du got up from his chair, “This is the death-trap thing, isn't it...”

  
  


Senor Senior only smiled and nodded.

  
  


* * *

 


	21. Chapter 21

Ron and Shego were watching from the air-conditioner vent. Good old a/c ducts. No one ever thought of safe-guarding a/c ducts...

  
  


“They're splitting up,” Shego whispered, “you go back to the OPT, I'll find my way to the lagoon.”

  
  


“Uhm... how come I can't go to the lagoon?”

  
  


Shego rolled her eyes, “Alright, _you_ go to the lagoon, and _I'll_ go back to the OPT! That better, Boss?”

  
  


“Actually, I think you should go to the lagoon, while I head back to the OPT. You're sneakier than I am... I'd probably end up in the death-trap with them.” He looked at her for confirmation, but she just stared. “Right. I'm going. Back to the OPT. So... uh... well, be careful, Shego.”

  
  


He'd only crawled a few feet before Shego said, “Ron! Don't... don't _do_ anything, okay? It's not time to tip our hand yet. If no one seems to be in any real danger, just wait and watch, right?”

  
  


“Yeah, okay. Wait and watch. Got it.”

  
  


“Good. And... good luck, Ron.”

  
  


“See ya” he said and continued crawling as quietly as he could. _'Good luck, Ron'... is she TRYING to jinx me? I HATE it when people say that..._

  
  


Shego, alone now, considered her next move.  _Beep-beep-be-beep_ . Shego's Communicator went off just as she had decided to exit the ventilation system and proceed from now on through the lair itself.  _Dammit, what now?_ She thought, imagining that it was Ron trying to contact her, since she knew that no one else would be able to. Pulling it from her pocket, she frowned at the display:

  
  


_Message Received 4:10:45 UTC. Message:_

_DR DRCTR BELARUS DNT BLW UP LAIR_

_Message time: 01:04:21_

  
  


Shego translated in her mind: _Doctor Director: Belarus, don't blow up lair. What the hell? I wasn't GOING to “blow up the lair”... Belarus? Why'd she say that?_ She puzzled about it awhile:

  
  


Dr. Director had shown her the chess defensive strategy known as “The Belarus Defense” once. Rather ingenious, really... it involved sacrificing pieces in order to fool your opponent into thinking that they would have you cornered within the next several moves, while you were _really_ preparing for your single one-move check-mate from the other side of the board. You let your opponent trap herself, basically, all the while thinking she had obviously won the game and was just waiting to finish you off. Sneaky, it was. Shego liked that sort of thing...

  
  


But what did it have to do with blowing up the lair? Blowing up the lair would be ridiculously easy to do – Senor Senior couldn't have _put_ the “Self-Destruct” switch in a more obvious place, or labeled it more clearly. It was like he almost _expected_ someone to -

  
  


Ah ha. That was the message, wasn't it... Senor Senior _did_ expect them to blow up the lair... and that's just what he wanted. Yeah... it made sense now. But why the weird code?  Oh well, she'd got the message: don't blow up the lair – that's what he wants you to do. Good enough. _Now let's get out of this damned a/c duct..._

  
  


Shego pushed on the grate to see if it would open easily. It would not. In fact, the grating seemed unusually strong, compared to the usual flimsy aluminum usually found in a/c systems... and well bolted down, too. Well, no biggie – what would stop an ordinary thief was certainly no obstacle to Shego. Everyone seemed to be gone from the main room now, so she lit up her plasma and prepared to melt her way through the grating.

  
  


She put her glowing green hands against the metal, expecting it to melt almost instantly. It did not. Well, it was unusually thick, maybe a little longer... Shortly it glowed red hot. Then white-hot. Shego began to sweat from the radiated heat – her hands were fire-proof, but the rest of her body was not – a lesson she had learned the hard way back when she had first discovered her powers. She'd set her hair on fire six times in the space of a month. Finally she had it cut short enough that she could practice controlling her plasma without setting herself on fire, and now she kept it long again as a point of pride in her practiced skill.

  
  


The grate wasn't melting. It wasn't even _soft_! And by now it was as hot as it was going to get - Shego couldn't continue to sit there in front of it without roasting herself. It wasn't going to work! It was like... like someone had prepared for -

  
  


Suddenly, six feet behind her, another grate dropped across the duct from above, and she could hear more such grates dropping throughout the ductwork system. The flow of air through the ductwork stopped, too.  _He knew I'd be coming... He knew I would be here_ ! _Dammit! And I did exactly what he expected me to do... He out-smarted me! That goddamned bastard outsmarted ME! Working for Dr. D all those years must have made me stupid! I can't BELIEVE I fell for this..._

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“Here's how this is going to work” Mr. Grey told Kim and Will as they were about to enter a hallway, “You will follow our instructions. If we see any hesitation to follow our instructions – we will open fire. Understood?”

  
  


“Fine” Will said, “Whatever” Kim added.

  
  


“Good. Now, clasp your hands behind your back. Okay. Now listen up for the instructions – there are a lot of 'em. You will keep your hands clasped as they are now. If you don't – we will open fire. And by the way, we will _always_ open fire on both of you at once. You will walk side-by-side. You will walk down the middle of the hallway. You may speak at will, but do not attempt to turn around or look at us. If you do -”

  
  


“You will open fire...” Kim suggested.

  
  


“Yeah. If you sneeze – we will open fire. If you trip over your own feet – we will open fire. If you make any sudden moves – we will open fire. If I feel like firing – we will open fire. Got all that?” Mr. Grey enjoyed his job. He was by far the oldest of the hired mercenaries, and there were several tricks he'd learned over the decades. The most important one was – be ridiculously cautious. The second-most important one was: never hesitate to open fire.

  
  


“Yeah.” Will said, “You like to say 'open fire', don't you...” Kim added.

  
  


“Indeed. Now, we have about seventy meters to walk. Let's get moving. Straight ahead, for now.”

  
  


They walked in silence for awhile, but Will could see out of the corner of his eye – he dared not turn his head – that Kim's face was screwed up with pain. “Something wrong, Kim?”

  
  


“I fractured both clavicles yesterday. Keeping my hands behind my back _really_ hurts...”

  
  


“Sorry to hear that. So... the use of your arms is...”

  
  


“Limited. Yeah. Sorry... I probably shouldn't have come.”

  
  


“Oh, I can use the company. So I hear that you and Shego are partners now? Can that be right?”

  
  


That caught Kim off guard - “Oh... well... yeah...” she stammered. Naturally, her face turned beet-red, and it didn't take Will long to figure out why.

  
  


“Uh... I _meant_ as in 'a team'. 'Partners in a team'. Not... uhm... anything else.”

  
  


Mr. Grey saved Kim further embarrassment, “Listen up: your death-trap tonight will consist of - one: scuba gear with half an hour of air, two: a shark-cage, and three: a shark. Don't look at us – we're just paid to follow orders. Frankly, I don't think you'll have too much trouble – or at least one of you won't. Whichever of you can swim the fastest should be fine” he chuckled. “You will be put in the shark-cage and lowered to the bottom of the lagoon. You will no doubt see Sweetie – that's the shark – waiting for you. You will not be restrained in any way, nor will the shark-cage be locked. All you have to do is swim out. Oh, without flippers, by the way, we don't want to make it _too_ easy on you. And just for fun, we have a bucket of fish-blood to toss in there with ya. To get her hungry, y'know. We've already had one guy swim out with hardly a bite on 'im, so we gotta make sure Sweetie is in better spirits for you. Not much of a death-trap, if ya ask me... you've got more to worry about with me and Mr. White here, but hey, not our show, y'know? Okay, there's the cage. Get in.”

  
  


Once in the cage, Mr. White threw in the scuba gear while Mr. Grey covered them with his rifle, then Mr. White picked up the crane control box and rather clumsily hung them out over the water as far as the crane would go, 'Sweetie' circling underneath, the stripes on her back plain to see.

  
  


“Tiger shark” Will said matter-of-factly, “Great. Just great.”

  
  


“We've met before. I thought she was going to eat the scooter with me on it” Kim sighed, “Now I guess she gets another chance.”

  
  


“Final instructions!” Mr. Grey was shouting to them now, “Mr. White and I – along with the rest of the staff, will be leaving shortly. On the off-chance that one or both of your heads pop up before we're gone – we'll-”

  
  


“Open fire”, Kim, Will, Mr. White, and Mr. Grey all said simultaneously.

  
  


Kim turned to Agent Du as the water came up over their shoes, “Will... you should know: I can't swim with my shoulders like this. I can't even put my arms over my head... so... maybe I should distract the shark while you swim for it?”

  
  


Will looked at her seriously for a moment through his mask. “No. We have half an hour to think of something else – and I've been told that I have no imagination. So you'd better think of something else.”

The cage was lowered to the bottom.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Ron was watching from the door of the a/c room as Cin and Bonnie were led to the OPT when her heard the _clunk!_ of the extra grates fall in the ductwork. A quick glance back into the duct he had climbed out confirmed – the a/c ducts were a trap. Good thing he was out of there. _I hope Shego's not... well, she can always burn her way out. I wish I had a superpower like that... it'd come in SO handy._

  
  


In a moment, Senor Senior arrived, and he – with his two goons – went into the tunneling machine and closed the door. Shortly after that, the lights went on, the cutting head spun up, and the OPT was on the move.

  
  


_Here we go again..._ Ron thought, jumping onto the back of the machine before it began cutting into rock again.  _Might as well get comfortable. Geez. I wish Shego was here... I mean, KP. Well, either one. I wish SOMEone was here besides just me._

  
  


* * *

  
  


First, she tried to melt the rock away from the bolts holding the grate, but the sulfurous fumes from the molten rock had choked her almost immediately. Senor Senior had known it would. That's why the a/c had died. _Clever bastard..._

  
  


_Eight feet_ Shego thought,  _I have eight feet of room. I can blast that grate out of the rock, but I can only get eight feet away... you thought of everything, didn't you, Senor Senior. I gotta hand it to ya._ _I hope I get the chance, sometime..._

  
  


Shego huddled against grate opposite the one that led into the main room of the lair, trying to make herself as small as possible, trying to decide which parts of her body she needed the least, and how to use those parts as shielding.

  
  


Eventually she decided on a sideways position. Putting her back to the blast would have been preferable – but she had to be able to get her hands in the right position to create the plasma-ball, so that was out. Once she expelled the ball, she'd have less than two seconds to protect herself as best she could. She'd never thought of trying to vary the speed of her plasma-blasts, except perhaps to make them faster. But it didn't work, they seemed to have one speed and one speed only. And this time, it was too fast. _Shit. This is gonna hurt me WAY more than it's gonna hurt you, Senor..._ She fired.

  
  


The grate blew out of the wall as if a grenade had gone off behind it, spraying Shego with pebbles and sand moving _almost_ as fast as bullets. The thick cotton jumpsuit she'd complained about being so hot now came to her rescue,  shielding her from the worst of the sand-blasting, but the larger chunks knocked her about fiercely, one of them destroying her Communicator in the process. Some of the debris was red-hot as well, burning holes in her jumpsuit and hair. And finally, there was one last problem she hadn't considered before: the air she was breathing was full of hot, vaporized rock.

  
  


She had to get the hell out of there - and fast! Shego opened her eyes but immediately squinted them shut again from the pain of hot dust and smoke. No time to check herself out for damage - she began to scramble out blindly, gagging on the smoke, trying to hold her breath but unable to stop choking and gasping. Each gasp brought fresh, new acidic pain in her throat, and the gravel cut into her knees. She began to panic.

  
  


To hell with her knees. To hell with the pain in her throat and lungs. To hell with trying to keep her weight on her heat-proof hands. GET OUT!

  
  


Tumbling out of the still-smoking hole seven feet up in the wall, Shego hit the floor in a tangled mess of flailing arms and legs. She hurt in too many places to count, and in more ways than she ever had before – excepting maybe when the parti-coloured comet had smashed into her parent's house. But the air... the wonderful, wonderful air, so blessedly cool in her throat, it tasted silvery, if felt liquid, it passed down her throat and filled her lungs with soothing, cool relief, even though she was still gasping and coughing and choking... the air was Life itself. She'd never known how good it could be to simply feel air inside her.

  
  


As her coughing subsided, she cautiously opened her eyes again, but couldn't see much through the watery haze. Tears ran down her cheeks to her neck. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. It helped. A little.

  
  


Could she move? Lying on her side on the floor, she tried each limb one by one – it was getting to be a habit - but nothing seemed to be broken. She sat up. Her cover-alls were sprinkled with burn holes – some cigarette-sized, some as big as a half-dollar. She didn't bother to check underneath the cloth – if there were any problems there, she would find out soon enough. She didn't have time for this. Kim was waiting on her – she just didn't know it yet. Shego slowly and painfully rose to her feet, her back against the wall.

  
  


Almost able to breathe, almost able to see, she took a step.

  
  


And screamed silently in pain, falling down to all fours again. Her ankle. If not broken, then at least severely sprained. It was hard to tell with ankles... and she didn't have time to find out. Using the wall for support again, Shego got back to her feet. This time she tested herself: right foot okay, it could bend and twist normally - left foot... could also bend and twist, with only a little tell-tale pain. She could put weight on it, too. So it must not be broken. Just sprained, then. Just incredibly painful to walk on when her stride hit just the wrong combination of angle and weight. But usable. _The pain is all in my mind_ she tried to make herself believe, _I'm not damaged. The pain is just nerve impulses. They don't MEAN anything. I can ignore the pain..._

  
  


She hobbled toward the hallway, trying her best to believe what she'd just told herself. Fresh tears flowed down her face, and not from smoke, this time.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Shortly after the cage hit the bottom of the lagoon, Kim and Will could see a red haze spread along the surface of the water, turning everything a sickly pink color. 'Sweetie' noticed, too - her patrol of the lagoon took on a new urgency.

  
  


Will and Kim looked at each other, then at Sweetie, then at their surroundings. The shark was veering from it's usual circular course around he lagoon, sweeping by the cage, getting a good look at them. She was obviously interested. Other than her, though, there wasn't much to see – the bottom was strewn with rocks and gravel, the wall of the lagoon was a good thirty feet away.

  
  


_No imagination, he said. All business, he said_ Will thought,  _Well, maybe I'll work on 'imagination' later. Business first._ Will took inventory of what they had – two tanks of air – only partially filled. Two regulators, two masks. And the clothes on their backs – that was all. A white suite and jacket for him, a black and blue  wet suit for Kim. Not much to work with...

  
  


_Think outside the box, Will... isn't that what the 'Teamwork' posters at ReallyBigCorp said? Stupid corporate posters... “Safety First”, “There's no 'I' in 'Team'”... “Think outside the box”..._

  
  


The box. Yeah, okay, so he'd left that off his list: the shark cage. They did have the shark cage. He studied the cage itself: door in the front – unlocked. Bars on four sides, bottom, and top. Some kind of metal – aluminum, probably, judging by the thick, uniform welds. Keep it light-weight. It's portable, after all. He idly wondered how much the cage weighed... of course, it would weigh significantly less submerged.

  
  


It _would_ weigh less submerged! It wasn't much, but it was something. _I wonder if I can pick it up..._ Putting his feet through the bars and onto the lagoon floor, he grabbed a bar on each side and lifted with his knees. Yes, he could lift it. Underwater, it probably weighed a little over a hundred and fifty pounds. So... what good was _that_ bit of information?

  
  


Kim was tapping him on the shoulder. What? She tried to point upward, and he saw her wince under her mask when she tried to lift her arm, so instead, she pointed up with her hand at chest-level – as high as she could raise it. He looked up. What? The top of the cage, the surface of the water, the cable that had lowered them, the shackles that affixed the cable-

  
  


The cable that had lowered them...

  
  


That was important, somehow... he just knew it. Was he supposed to climb up the cable? That would mean leaving the cage. Sweetie would probably just _love_ for him to leave that cage...

  
  


_Pull the whole cage up the cable!_ he thought with sudden insight,  _Kim! You're fucking brilliant!!_ He grabbed her shoulders to show her his enthusiasm for the plan, and immediately felt stupid again when he saw her pained expression.  _Forgot. Sorry..._ he thought at her. He pushed off the floor of the cage and floated at the top, grabbing the cable outside and pulling the slack down a foot inside. Now what? 

  
  


He couldn't just pull down on the cable – the cable wasn't going to move. It was the cage that was going to move. He could put his back against the top of the cage and... sort of _push_ the cable down away from him? Well, the forces were right, but the position... was stupid and impractical. It would be like hanging on a rope upside-down and trying to push your way up. People were built to _pull_ , not to _push_. You reached _up_ and pull _down._ Or, he realized, you reach _down_ and pull _up._

  
  


Underwater, of course, “up” and “down” were more relative than on land. Yes. They were. They were, weren't they...

  
  


Still holding onto the cable, Will brought his feet up to the bars of the ceiling of the cage. Now he was set to pull “up”, relative to himself, and “down” relative to the cable. The force would push his feet against the top of the cage. Lifting it.  _How's THAT for “no imagination”, you old coot!_ he thought.

  
  


The bottom of the cage lifted from the lagoon floor.

  
  


It was rather hard going though. He was basically pulling up the weight of the cage with his back. And he had thirty feet to go – maybe two feet at a time. And there was no resting – he had to hold that weight all the time. And he was breathing hard. With limited air.

  
  


It was going to be close...

  
  


Watching Agent Du, Kim felt more than a little useless. And a little dumb. She hadn't thought of pulling the cage up – as Will thought she had. She had pointed up at the surface thinking that somehow they could use the cable as some sort of shield against the shark. Or maybe use it to climb out of the water quickly, as opposed to swimming to the lagoon wall _sans_ flippers, which would be difficult at best – and require an awful lot of body flailing in the presence of a hungry shark. But maybe Will could climb the cable to the crane's boom and then lift the cage out of the water.

  
  


Her air wouldn't last that long, of course... she knew that. And there was _no way_ she could climb a cable in her condition, but at least one of them would survive. She could accept that. After all, she could “do anything”... including sacrifice herself. Except in this case, it wouldn't really be a “sacrifice”... she was just useless. There was nothing she could do to even help poor Will, struggling to lift their cage to the surface. Apparently it was heavy. But she couldn't help pull on the cable – her arms already felt like they were about to fall off. If only she could do SOMEthing! Push up on the bottom or something, make his load lighter...

  
  


Make his load lighter...

  
  


_Lighter. Lighter than water... float. If I could only get some thing that floats, or throw out something heavy._ The air-tanks were kind of heavy – out of the water. Under it, they were “weighed” only a pound or three. Of course, the air in them was light – she could see it bubbling up towards freedom every breath she took.

  
  


_!!!_

  
  


Kim began peeling off her full-body wet suit. It was a painful thing to do – awkward under the best of circumstances – damn near impossible with fractured collar-bones. She squeezed her eyes shut as she reached both arms back to pull the suit off her sleeves. It was pure, unending hell. Even after she had one arm free, and could pull the other arm off from the front, it still hurt incredibly. Tears ran from her eyes inside the face-mask. If only Will weren't busy, he could have done this for her... too late for that now. Finally she had it peeled down to her waist and began rolling the rubber-like material down her legs.

  
  


Will had paused to catch his breath, at the same time trying not to breathe more than he had to, a tricky compromise. Catching Kim's movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over at her, and was rather startled to see her apparently undressing – although she still had a blue one-piece beneath the wet-suit. What an odd thing for her to do, he thought. Still, apparently she'd had an idea, and that was good - because he was becoming fairly certain that he'd be out of air before ever reached the surface. Too bad he couldn't ask her about her plan... _Oh well, maybe hers will work better than mine_ he thought. He began hauling on the cable again.

  
  


Kim's wet-suit was off. With the zipper up, and knots tied in the sleeves and legs, it would hold a _lot_ of air. She held it by the neck and took out her mouthpiece, pressing the purge valve to let the air fill it just a little, so she could position the now-floating suit properly against the cross-bars in the roof of the cage.

  
  


Will looked over and got the idea, nodding his head up and down excitedly.

  
  


Kim took a deep breath from her regulator, held it, and then began filling her wet-suit with air.

  
  


Will immediately felt the weight of the cage seem to decrease, and Kim still had a lot of filling to do. Then it occurred to him: that was her _breathing_ air she was filling the suit with... the more she put into the suit, the less time she had left to breathe. Another close call. _Damn, Senor Senior... you DO know how to make a death-trap, don't you... it must be like a hobby for you. Every idea we come up with has it's down-side..._

  
  


Sweetie bumped the side of the cage as she swam by, and the cable almost slipped from Will's hands.  _She's seeing what the cage tastes like,_ Will and Kim both thought,  _but the higher we get, the bloodier the water is, and eventually she's not going to CARE if the cage tastes like aluminum... she'll attack it anyway. Fuck._ Their thoughts didn't match exactly, but the “ _Fuck”_ part did.

  
  


Hauling the cage up was becoming easier and easier. By the time Kim finished filling up her suit, Will was only having to lift twenty pounds of weight. He could haul hand-over-hand now, and they rose to the surface at a steady rate. Which was good, because his pressure gage showed less than fifty pounds of air left. Kim's showed thirty. Her regulator began to stutter; not enough pressure differential to quite open the valve fully.

  
  


Ten feet to go.

  
  


She sucked out a deep breath, and held it. It took muscle-power to inhale it past the regulator. She would be lucky to get even _one_ more lung-full out of her tank. She slipped the tank off, took out her regulator, disconnected it from the tank entirely. If she _did_ get another breath out of that tank, it would be directly from its outlet valve – it no longer had enough pressure to work the regulator. She looked up at Will and waited.

  
  


Five feet to go.

  
  


She noticed that bubbles had stopped coming out of Will's regulator – he was holding his breath too. Was he entirely out of air? She had no way of knowing. Looking at the pinched expression on his face, she guessed it had. Men's lungs were less efficient than women's, and he was doing physical labor besides. But Will was too concentrating too intently on his job to panic.

  
  


Kim, on the other hand, had time... but 'panic' just wasn't her thing.

  
  


Will had to have air! If she couldn't find him air, they would _both_ be doomed! Where was she going to find air? Her discarded tank? Maybe. Other than that, there was only what was inside her suit, pushing against the top of the cage.

  
  


_Lots_ of air in there... if you could get your head into the sleeves or legs. And even trying was likely to let more out of the suit , making the cage heavier, and Will would have to work harder...

  
  


She lifted her tank to his mouth, tapping on his mask to get him to open his eyes and see what she was offering. He saw. He understood. He spit out his regulator and sealed his mouth over the tank's valve. Kim opened it. Bubbles erupted from his mouth and nose as he breathed two breaths – and that was all. Will removed his mouth from the tank before Kim shut the valve – that tank was empty. He began hauling again.

  
  


Kim tossed away the empty tank, and unhooked his. A quick test showed it was empty too.

  
  


Two feet.

  
  


Kim's chest began to hitch, but she tried to ignore it. It didn't work.

  
  


Dolphins have to make a conscious effort to breathe. Thus, they have to be awake _all_ the time, so they sleep a half-brain at a time. People can't do that, and breathing is regulated by the autonomous nervous system. A man or woman eventually _will_ breathe - or try to - even if underwater. Kim might pass out first, but as soon as she did – she would breathe.

  
  


She put her snorkel into her mouth, and brought her head up to the top of the cage. The top of that snorkel would be the first thing to break the surface of the water. But how would she know when that happened?

  
  


Six inches.

  
  


Her chest spasming uncontrollably, Kim purged her snorkel by exhaling forcefully through it. Whichever way it went, air or water, it was going to happen now. She inhaled deeply.

  
  


Air.

  
  


Three fast but sweet breaths of life later, she opened her eyes. Will was looking at her. The top of the cage was at the surface of the water... but he couldn't let go of the cable. Thinking with her trade-mark speed, she took one more deep breath and swam down to the bottom of the cage, tying the slack cable hanging there to the cross-bars of the floor with a double-half-hitch.

  
  


Will let go and put his snorkel into his mouth. Kim could see his chest heaving. He banged his head against the ceiling of the cage without caring and purged his snorkel. And breathed.

  
  


They had made it. Kim joined him at the top, sticking her snorkel above the surface again. They simply stared for a long time, silently congratulating each other at their success.

  
  


Sweetie had other ideas. To be more precise, Sweetie had _one_ idea: bite anything that got close enough to bite. Her primary sense organ was overloaded with the blood in the water – she could taste it with her entire body. Sight meant little. Sound even less. As far as she could tell, Sweetie was swimming through food, and she snapped her jaws repetitively at nothing and everything. But there was one sense left to give her some direction: the electric-field receptors under her snout. _They_ told her that there was _something_ about that cage she could eat.

  
  


She rammed into the cage, bending the soft aluminum bars aside, and pushing the whole cage three feet out of the water sideways. Her mouth, now mostly inside the cage, snapped open and shut, seeming to gulp forty gallons of water at a time.

  
  


Was she stuck there? Was she at least preoccupied? Was this the time to make a swim for it? Was this the time to be asking such questions? Kim opened the door of the cage – now sideways to the surface, and swam out as fast as she could frog-kick. Which wasn't very fast. She tried to use her arms, but they just wouldn't reach over her head anymore – even if she could have ignored the pain from trying, they simply _would not_ obey. The wall of the lagoon was impossibly far away...

  
  


Will took more time to consider his options – if only because he had more to choose from than Kim did. Sweetie knew they were in there. Sweetie was coming to get them. He had heard of only one way to defend ones self against sharks. Supposedly it stunned them somehow. Sometimes. Before Sweetie could back out and attack again, he swam down and grabbed an air-tank with both hands, and then, poised just in front of the snapping jaws, rammed the butt-end of the tank against her the tip of Sweetie's snout as hard as he could.

  
  


For Sweetie, the pain was blinding. She twisted free from the cage and swam away as fast as she could, trying distance herself from whatever had done that to her. Her e-field organs were now useless. Her brain – such as it was – no longer controlled her actions at all. She bit at rocks, she rammed the bottom of the lagoon, she thrashed at the surface. Sweetie was insane.

  
  


Will swam out the open door and climbed on top of the cage, expecting to find Kim waiting there. Of course, she wasn't. She was making for the rock wall. Acutely aware of her condition, he wondered if she had thought about how she was going to climb up that wall once she got there... It was only a couple of feet high above the water, but when you didn't have arms... it might as well be a mile. Frog-kicking only, Kim's progress was leisurely, at best. And Sweetie seemed to be calming down. _I bet she's pissed now, too. Shit!_

  
  


While he watched, and before he could do anything, he saw Sweetie's dorsal fin break the surface. She was making a bee-line for Kim. And there was absolutely nothing he could do. His heart sank. He wanted to look away, but couldn't. He was going to see this, whether he wanted to or not. If only he could look away... because he'd really, _really_ rather _not_ see...

  
  


Shego could see it too. She'd just hobbled her way into the sub-bay to see far enough over the edge of the bank, and there was Kim, and there was the fin, and there she was barely able to walk. _FUCK it!_ She ran, bounding long strides, screaming soundlessly from her burned-raw throat. She leaped off the edge of the lagoon, lighting her plasma in mid-air.

  
  


And landed straddling Sweetie's back, just in front of her dorsal fin. The shock of feeling something on her back made Sweetie forget about Kim for the moment, and she dove, Shego still astride.

  
  


Yes, folks, Shego had just 'jumped the shark'.

  
  


Sweetie bucked and twisted, snapping her jaws threateningly, but Shego held on, her legs clamped around Sweetie's head. Shego raised her plasma-engulfed fists and plunged them both down onto the shark's skull.

  
  


Nothing happened. Great torrents of bubbles – vaporized seawater – trailed from her blazing hands. But the knock-out blast she'd intended – the most intense knock-out blast she'd ever prepared, did nothing. She changed the character of her plasma to burn temperature, and tried to blast a hole into Sweetie's skull. But again, nothing happened. Just more bubbles. _Shit! Underwater! Damn plasma doesn't work underwater!!_

  
  


It wasn't so much surprising – it was just that she'd never thought about it before.

  
  


So now there was nothing for her to do but hold on, because letting go would be almost assured death. Shego only hoped the shark would surface again before she couldn't hold her breath any longer.

  
  


She should have been more careful what she wished for, because Sweetie _did_ head for the surface – and at top speed. Blown back by the force of the water against her, Shego folded down backwards onto Sweetie's fin, and together, they broke the surface and flew through the air.

  
  


_You're in MY element now, you bastard!_ Shego thought, lighting up her best knock-out charge again. Before splash, her fists made contact with Sweetie's head again, and she felt its entire body stiffen, then slack. Sweetie splashed into the water ingloriously unconscious.

  
  


And right on top of Kim, knocking the breath out of her, and pulling her back underwater.

  
  


Shego treaded the suddenly calm water trying to gather her wits. The shark was out of it now, party over. _That_ had been an experience... say, where _was_ Kim, anyway?

  
  


Seeing what had happened, Will had dived in after her. He had a mask on – he'd be able to see, and Shego had obviously been a little shell-shocked from her shark-ride, so that left him, even though he was farther away. He found her floating in a daze ten feet down, put his arm around her shoulders – no, around her _waist_ – he finally remembered, and brought her back to the surface.

  
  


“Looking for someone, Shego?” he said in a rare - for him - flash of sarcasm.

  
  


Shego opened her mouth to speak, and only now realized that she had no voice. She pointed to her mouth to indicate the fact.

  
  


“Ah. Look, can we just get out of the water before something _else_ happens?” It had been an exciting half-hour.

  
  


* * *

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Kim was pretty out of it. One of her collar-bones had finally broken, and getting her out of the water had brought her to new heights of pain. She looked up at Shego with a pale face and glassy eyes - conscious, but only barely cognizant. “Shego” she whispered weakly. Shego tried to answer, but still nothing came out, and it pained her to even try, but it pained her more that she couldn't respond... being speechless was a new experience for her.

  
  


Sensing this, Will said, “Shego can't talk, Kim. I don't know what happened to her, but she's pretty beat up. Looks like she walked through a fire or something.”

  
  


Kim was still staring at Shego, who was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she couldn't speak. She'd probably never wanted to talk more in her life, and she couldn't. Kim shivered, and Shego's face became alarmed.

  
  


“It's just shock, Shego... we need to get her some blankets, keep her warm. I'll go look, see what I can find. You stay here” he said needlessly, and trotted off.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“S – Shego...” Kim whispered again, looking her in the eye.

  
  


Shego squeezed Kim's hand, pointed to her open mouth, and nodded 'no'.

  
  


Through the haze of her mind, Kim knew there was something left undone – the last thing she always did, whether by accident or on purpose. She'd done this so many times, it was like a play, and the last act had yet to be staged.

  
  


“Shego... self-destruct... go... the switch... go pull the switch...”

  
  


Shego's eyes widened. Kim wanted her to flip the self-destruct switch? But...

  
  


“Go. Shego... Self-destruct. Do it...” Kim whispered again.

  
  


Shego knew what Kim meant, and knew that Kim meant it, and knew that it was the wrong thing to do, and knew that she wouldn't be able to help it.  _Kim! You don't know what you're doing!_ Shego thought at her, trying to beam the words through her eyes,  _You don't know you're ordering me... Kim! Stop it!_ She did the only thing she could: she nodded her head vigorously. But she didn't go. Not yet. Not until -

  
  


“Do it now” Kim said with the last of her strength. Shego felt the order take hold – that weird sensation she'd once found so outrageously kinky. And later, simply outrageous. And now...

  
  


_KIM!!_

  
  


Shego got up and hobbled back into the hall, unable to stop herself, a passenger in her own body. _She doesn't know what she's doing! Dammit!! GOD DAMMIT!!_

  
  


She was still cursing when she reached the switch. Was this the final part of Senor Senior's plan? He would know about Shego's condition. He would know that Kim would try to blow up the lair. He would even know that Shego would be voiceless from breathing sulfurous fumes after blasting out of the a/c vent. They were each playing their pre-assigned parts, and Shego was the last pawn, a puppet being controlled third-hand by Senor Senior himself. _FUCK ME!!_ she fumed, _And fuck YOU, Senor!!_

  
  


She reached for the switch, quivering. This would probably be the death of them all... and she was going to pull it. If only she could have spoken to Kim! Or shown her the now-destroyed Communicator message! Kim wouldn't make her do this if she knew what Shego couldn't tell her!

  
  


She _wouldn't._ Shego froze, hand on the switch.

  
  


_If_ she knew, she  _wouldn't_ make her do this...

  
  


She _WOULD_ not, _IF_ she knew... Shego kept repeating the phrase in her head, working it around, testing it's truth - _IF_ Kim knew the consequences, _IF_ Kim knew the situation, she _WOULDN'T_ make Shego do this. She'd outright ordered Shego, but she _WOULDN'T HAVE_ meant it...

  
  


_IF..._

  
  


It was true... Shego _knew_ it was true. Her hand backed away from the switch. She _knew_ it in her mind, and she _knew_ it in her heart. She put her hands down to her side. Kim didn't mean it. Kim didn't _KNOW_ she didn't mean it, but she didn't. And Shego knew it was so. She didn't just _think_ it was so, she didn't just _believe_ it was so, she didn't just have _faith_ that it was so...

  
  


Deep down, she _knew_ it!

  
  


She turned to hobble back to the sub-bay.

  
  


Will ran up to her just halfway down the hall, “Shego! There you are!” he said, not slowing down, “I'm gonna go hit the self-destruct, then we're all gonna take the scooter out of here. Kim's all tied down and ready to go. There's a scuba-rig over by it too – you put that on – check the air in it.” And he was already gone.

  
  


Shego looked down the now empty hall the way she had come dumb-founded. _He's going to... HE is going to hit the... FUCK!!_ She'd never catch up to him to stop him. _JESUS H. FUCKING..._ Now, _this_ had to be the epitome of irony, here... _This_ was not to be _fucking_ believed! She'd had to fight her own mind with her heart to keep from doing what she _knew_ shouldn't be done, and here comes Mr. Secret Agent Man - _'Ta, Shego, mustn't dally – have to blow up the lair, you know! Jolly good! See you at tea!'_

  
  


Well, _SOMEone_ was definitely laughing at her – either Senor Senior or God herself... in other circumstances, she might have laughed out loud. Or if it had happened to someone else. But not here, not now, and not to her... so she hurried as best she could towards the sub-bay, alternately rolling her eyes, shaking her head in  disbelief, and silently cursing Will, herself, Senor Senior - and the world in general - the whole time.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


“ _Ninety seconds to self-destruct”_ the emotionless voice announced through loud-speakers.

  
  


_Ninety SECONDS!? What the hell kind of warning-time is that!?_ Will thought after he'd thrown the switch,  _Dammit Senor Senior... I'll barely make it back to the sub-bay in ninety seconds!_ Then again, he wouldn't make it at all if he kept standing there with his mouth open...

  
  


Shego had her gear on and was in the process of getting a mask onto Kim and a regulator into her mouth. The scooter was outfitted with two regulators for just such an emergency, but there were three of them – someone was going to have to hold on on the outside.

  
  


“ _Ten seconds to self-destruct.”_

  
  


“Shego! Get in the water! I'll push her in, you grab on to the outside and I'll drive!” Will shouted, putting on his mask and grabbing the spare regulator.

  
  


Shego glared at him through her mask. _Fuck that!_ she thought , _If anyone's going to drive this thing, it's going to be me!_ She held up a hand and lit it to make her intentions known.

  
  


“Shego, we don't have _time_ to argue!”

  
  


“ _Five seconds to self-destruct.”_

  
  


“Goddammit! Fine, help me push her into the water, then!”

  
  


The two of them launched the scooter back into the water with one shove, and jumped in after it. Shego climbed onto Kim's back. It was pretty obvious how to work the scooter – feet worked the up/down fins, hands did the left-right part. _No sweat_ Shego thought. Will clung to the right side hand-holds, and put the spare regulator into his mouth. Shego flipped on the lights, the motor, and they were off. Explosive charges began going off before they were even out of the lagoon.

  
  


They could feel the shudders through the water as bits of the ceiling of the sub-bay began falling around them. Shego gunned the throttle. The scooter – even while pulling three people – could go amazingly fast. In fact, it could go _too_ fast, given that Shego could only see about fifteen feet in front of her. She had to slow down. Bits of tunnel began falling down around them. Then they felt a _massive_ shudder, during which the whole world seemed to shake, and _large_ chunks of the tunnel ceiling began to fall.

  
  


Shego gave it as much throttle as she dared. _Fuck!! If only I could see!!! We're not gonna make it! I'm sorry, Kim... we're not gonna make it..._

  
  


Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of Will's hands rise toward the handlebar. What was he up to? Surely he didn't think he could steer better than she could! He seemed to be reaching for an orange button, but she dared not take her eyes off the “road” in front of her. Well, whatever he was doing, it had better be good.

  
  


“BLOA” - Blue Laser Obstacle Avoidance. Will pressed the button on the handlebar and the world in front of Shego seemed to light up with a blue grid of lines. But it had a strange aspect to it, somehow... it was rather like playing an old video game. One color, and a ludicrously slow frame-rate. The blue laser beam – blue because sea-water tends to absorb other colors, which is why everything looks bluish underwater – was scanning back and forth, top to bottom, completing a “frame” in one tenth of a second before starting over again. Shego could “see” the grid for a hundred yards forward, but she had to fly through a cartoon-like world of ten frame-per-second vector animation.

  
  


At least she could see. She opened the throttle as far as it would go. Will hung on for dear life.

  
  


The comet had given Shego her plasma, and her speedy healing ability. The enhancements to her body from the comet had also helped her achieve the extremely high level of martial-arts skill Shego possessed. But the flying... the flying was her inherit ability – all Shego, no comet. Much like Ron in the grips of Mystical Monkey Power, the world seemed to slow down for her as she concentrated, swinging around falling rocks, checking the still-functioning map on the Communicator affixed to the dash, picking and choosing her path, pushing the maneuverability of the scooter to its limits. The extra drag created by Will hanging onto the right side meant she could turn right faster than she could turn left – she took advantage of that. By the same token, she could also go up faster than she could go down. She took advantage of that, too.

  
  


Shego flew through the dynamic maze of collapsing tunnels like a barracuda chasing a sardine. Really, it would have been a beautiful sight, had anyone been there to see it. Apparently Global Justice Agent First Class William Du didn't appreciate it so much. In fact, he closed his eyes. Philistine.

  
  


The tube's mouth was collapsing behind her as Shego entered the open ocean.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Senor Senior had Bonnie and Cin's zip-ties cut as soon as they were well underway in the OPT. With one armed mercenaries per teenage girl, it seemed safe enough, Senor Senior thought - and Cin, at least, seemed to know here place in the scheme of things. She wasn't likely to cause any trouble. Not that he really minded trouble so much... “trouble” was what made kept these thing interesting. If it weren't for the “trouble”, he might as well spend his retirement playing golf.

  
  


Something was troubling Bonnie - “So... why did you bring us along?” she asked Senor Senior. Surely he wasn't just showing off for Cin's sake...

  
  


Cin added, “Yeah... Senor Senior, why _did_ you bring us? It doesn't make any sense to have us here while you plant the charges that -”

  
  


The gray-haired super-villain cut her off, “We are not going to plant any charges, my dears. We are in fact making our escape! Don't you see?”, he chuckled to himself extra-archly (he'd been practicing for weeks), “I have arranged for Team Possible to carry out the concluding episode on my behalf. It's quite evil of me... and I'm very proud of it, if I say so myself.”

  
  


“But -” Cin tried to get in, but Senor Senior wasn't done yet. The henchmen sighed and leaned back against the hull as Senor Senior went on explaining his plan – how the “charges” he was supposed to be setting were a complete ruse, and the real object was the self-destruction of the lair itself. How and why Kim and Agent Du would – or at least _should_ – be able to escape their death-trap to do it. Precautions taken in case Shego showed up – as he'd expected she would, and was rather disappointed he didn't get to show off to her. Even down to how Kim – if Shego _did_ appear – and in what she would think of as the performance of her duty, would probably order Shego to flip the self-destruct switch, and the ex-villain would be unable to disobey, owing to her condition. The  explanation of which somewhat stunned Bonnie and Cin.

  
  


By the time – an hour later – he was done, the two girls were just staring open-mouthed at him. He certainly seemed to have everything planned out. But -

  
  


“So, what's going to happen to us?” Bonnie asked.

  
  


“Oh, yes, well – your appearance was rather unexpected, you see. I hadn't counted on that. You'll be set free as soon as Mr.'s Blue, White, and I make our escape with the OPT. No harm done to you. If you behave, that is” he raised a single eyebrow at her (he'd been practicing doing _that_ for a year). “But I must say I've appreciated the presence of Miss Cin – excuse me, I mean just 'Cin' – here. I was beginning to think that _no one_ understood these things, and I certainly never knew I had an actual fan...”

  
  


Cin blushed and hung her head, “Uh... yeah. I – I'm sorry about what I said about your son and the lava waterfall in your lair... it was stupid. I'm not _usually_ that dumb...”

  
  


He chuckled again, but good-naturedly this time, “Oh, no bother about that... the 'lava-fall' was probably a bit over-the-top. It was raspberry Jello, you know: lit up from behind so that it would appear to glow. It took over two-hundred man-hours to get the recipe right, and it _did_ look rather real, I thought. The sub-woofers that provided the rumbling completed the illusion – but it was still rather obviously an illusion. I suppose I was rather piqued; not only that you'd noticed it, but that you _said_ something about it as well. I apologize if I behaved rudely, Cin.”

  
  


She looked up, “Oh... well...” The fan-girl in her was beginning to surface again. He was just _SO_ classy!

  
  


“And as for my son Senor Junior... well, we all have disappointments in life, I suppose. This 'American Idol' thing – I take it he's not likely to become a house-hold word because of it?”

  
  


“Heh,” Bonnie snorted, “not likely.” Cin glared at her.

  
  


Bonnie saw the glare and rolled her eyes, “Oh, give me a break, Cin. Puh-leeze...”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


_Daylight? Daylight! Boo-yah!_ Ron thought as the OPT broke through to the surface. It made much better time this trip as it had come back through the same tunnel it had bored previously, but Ron had no way of knowing that.  _Wait... I thought we were supposed to be heading DOWN... Oh well, I'll take what I can get._ No time to wonder further, he scrambled quietly to the top of the OPT and crouched over where the occupants would make their exit, ready to pounce.

  
  


Cin... then Bonnie... and finally the man with the gun. Ron jumped down, planting both feet on the man's back, knocking the machine-pistol out of his hands. It flew through the air gracefully – until Bonnie grabbed it. Wide-eyed, she looked at her girlfriend for advice, whereupon Cin simply took it out of her hands, and slammed the bolt back in case it wasn't loaded. She grimaced in disgust – an Uzi.  _Must have been another Senor Junior choice_ she thought.

  
  


Knowing that Mr. White was still inside the OPT, and armed, she took up position next to the hatchway; effectively – she hoped – trapping the remaining goon and Senor Senior inside.

  
  


By this time Mr. Blue had rolled back onto his feet and was trying to reach for his sidearm, but Ron was keeping him to busy to grab it. Then shots rang out from the open door, and everyone froze where they were. Ron and Mr. Blue were right in front of the hatchway, so Mr. White had a clear shot at him although he would very possibly hit Mr. Blue in the process. But Mr. Blue's back was to the door, and Ron, facing him, could see the other man's gun pointed at the two of them. Mr White stepped down from the hatch, keeping his weapon pointed at Ron.

  
  


Meanwhile, Mr. Blue had drawn his pistol, which he also pointed at Ron. _I jumped too soon! Damn!_ Ron thought, _I should have waited... Shego would've waited... dammit, if she'd been here this would all be over by now._

  
  


“Mr. White? Drop the gun” Cin said, surprising him from the side. But Mr. White didn't drop the gun, keeping it pointed at Ron. Mr. Blue moved to the side to see what was going on behind him, thus leaving Ron alone in the other henchman's field of fire. Mr. Blue turned his pistol on Cin.

  
  


“Maybe it's _you_ who should drop the gun, Cin...” he smiled.

  
  


Cin saw, but did nothing. That gun was her only option – she would _not_ drop it for the world. “You shoot me, I shoot him,” she said, summoning her courage from action-movie scripts, “and then you. How's that for a plan?”

  
  


“Mr. White... move forward from the door, please” the quiet but serious voice of Senor Senior said. Mr. White did, and Senor Senior appeared in the hatchway, apparently still oblivious to Cin's presence. Cin switched her target from Mr. White to Senor Senior. He stepped out of the OPT onto the coffee-field, then turned to face Cin and her Uzi.

  
  


“Cin... I'm surprised at you...”

  
  


“I know, and I'm sorry Senor Senior. But I can't just let you get away with everything. It wouldn't... y'know... be _right_...”

  
  


“Of course not. I understand completely. So...” he looked at the various people and guns, “It appears we have what's known as a 'Mexican Standoff'. I've never understood the phrase myself.” Senor Senior smiled. _This_ was what it was all about! Unexpected people doing unexpected things and leading to unexpected situations... Why, he actually had a _gun_ pointed at him! A gun held by a quite attractive teenage homosexual girl in a white suit with black piping... it didn't _get_ any better than this! He idly wished his son were there to enjoy it, but immediately  realized that Junior wouldn't 'get it' anyway.

  
  


He let the tension of the situation build, relishing every minute of it.

  
  


Cin wasn't relishing it quite so much. She'd _played_ Combat Handguns with the police before – Jr. Division. She had trophies from it. Fifteen out of seventeen targets hit – no civilian casualties. But those targets didn't shoot back – this was the first time she'd ever had to deal with someone actually pointing at gun _at her_! And it was making her _very, VERY_ nervous. Which in turn was making Mr. Blue nervous as he kept his gun aimed at her. Which made Ron nervous on Cin's behalf, which made Mr. White nervous about what Ron might do.

  
  


Senor Senior thought the whole thing was just absolutely delicious!

  
  


Then he saw that Cin was breaking out in a sweat, so he said quietly, “Stay calm, Cin. This is a stalemate situation, as you see. Try to think what to do... try not to be intimidated.”

  
  


“Senor Senior, Senior, sir. I... I _will_ shoot  you... if I have to... I don't _want_ to...” Cin said haltingly.

  
  


“No, Cin, you don't. No one here wants do to any shooting at all. Now think – what _do_ you want?” _Poor darling girl,_ Senor Senior thought, _she has what takes, but she's just not used this sort of thing._ Already charmed by Cin, Senor Senior was falling in love. An androgynous, smartly be-suited, lesbian damsel-in-distress will do that to a man.

  
  


“I... I want...” she began, unsure of herself. Bonnie picked it up for her.

  
  


“We want to hold you here until help comes, is what we want,” she said sarcastically, “but you probably aren't going to wait that long.”

  
  


“Quite so” Senor Senior said simply.

  
  


“So... failing that, we want to simply get away” Bonnie concluded.

  
  


“As do we, Bonnie. You have quite the astute girlfriend there, Cin. I hope you appreciate that.”

  
  


“Y-yes, sir” was all Cin could manage to say. Knowing that Mr. Blue's pistol was aimed at her – not just pointed, but _aimed –_ made her mouth dry. 

  
  


“Good. So, we need to make a _deal_ , yes? That way, we each get what we want, and no one gets hurt. Would you say that sounds reasonable, Bonnie?”

  
  


“Works for me...”

  
  


“Excellent. Cin – do try to remain calm, dear” he told her, seeing the sweat bead on her forehead, “We're making progress here. What _we_ want is simply to start up our airplane over there, hook up the OPT to it, and leave as we came. No shooting. Is this acceptable? Bonnie? Cin? Ron?”

  
  


Ron blushed at hearing his name. It was a rare for anyone to remember his name – usually was it rare for anyone to even remember that he was _there_.

  
  


“Yes, I -” Bonnie began.

  
  


“No!” Ron cried, “No, we can't let you take the OPT with you! You're too dangerous with it. If you take that, we've basically accomplished nothing at all. So no, you can't take the OPT.”

  
  


Senor Senior looked at him amusedly, “I do not believe _you_ are in a bargaining position, Mr. Stoppable” he chuckled, and turned back to Cin. “What say you, Cin? We take the digger and leave. Would that-”

  
  


“No. I mean... n-no, Senor Senior, sir... I... like Ron said... we can't let you take it with you. No deal. Sir.”

  
  


Bonnie was about to say that it sounded like a _hell_ of a deal to her, but decided she was out-numbered, and kept quiet.

  
  


“Is that your final word on the matter, Cin?” Senor Senior said with a frightening tone of finality (practice time – four months).

  
  


“Y-yes...”

  
  


He let the suspense build again, just for fun.

  
  


Cin was becoming deeply frightened. Familiarity with guns meant she knew what they could do, and how easily. And how unintentionally. If Mr. Blue's finger were to get just a _little_ too jumpy... She whispered so that only the arch-villain could hear, “Please, Mr. Senior... don't do this...” Her own finger tightened on the Uzi's trigger.

  
  


He only smiled at her. What he  _wanted_ to do was ruffle Cin's hair – she was just  _SUCH_ a charming girl! He wished he were fifty years younger... and female.

  
  


“Ah well, I suppose we will concede the point, then. We will not take the machine. We will merely board our airplane and leave. Are we all agreed, then?” He winked at Cin, trying to alleviate her fears.

  
  


Ron said, “Yeah. We'll take that option.”

  
  


Cin swallowed and said shakily, “O-okay...”

  
  


Bonnie said, “Great. So can we all put the guns down now? I'm allergic to guns.”

  
  


Senor Senior said, “Mr. Blue? Please go get started on the pre-flight. Mr. White, you may go too. I will be along shortly.” The two mercenaries cautiously lowered their guns and walked off – backwards – toward the waiting tilt-wing jet. “Cin? May I see you inside, please?” He nodded towards the door of the OPT, “In there?”

  
  


Rather taken aback by the dramatic change of situation, Cin didn't really know _what_ to do, “Uh...”

  
  


“You may bring your gun, if you like. I just have a few thing to say to you, before we part. You have my word.”

  
  


She glanced around at Bonnie first, who only shrugged, then at Ron, who – faintly smiling – nodded that he approved.

  
  


“Okay... I guess. Uh... after you?” she said.

  
  


Inside, Senor Senior sat in the driver's chair at the front of the machine, while Cin stood anxiously six feet away, still pointing the Uzi in his direction. Her adrenalin had yet to wear off.

  
  


“Closer, Cin – sit there” he indicated the Nav chair a scant three feet away.

  
  


Against her better judgment, she did as she was asked – but she still held the gun.

  
  


“It has been quite the adventurous day, wouldn't you say, my dear? I hope you've enjoyed it... Excepting this last bit, I mean to say. I'm sorry you had to endure that... you haven't had the training or experience to appreciate such situations yet, and I apologize for getting you into it. But I must say you've performed _absoLUTELY_ admirably! I am quite impressed!”

  
  


Cin blushed even through her anxiety, “Uh... thanks... I guess...”

  
  


“I brought you in here to ask you to ask _yourself_ one question – you do not have to answer. I only want you to think about it – do you think you'd enjoy a life of crime?”

  
  


Wrinkles appeared between Cin's eyebrows. What was he asking her? To become a criminal? She was holding him at gunpoint and he wanted to know if she'd like to be a bad-guy? Well, “bad-girl”, then? What the _hell_ kind of question was that? Mind you... it'd be cool, sort of. If she could be as dignified a criminal as Senor Senior was... Being rich wouldn't hurt, either. Of course – her mind wandered a bit – she'd have to find a cool name to call herself... _What am I thinking?_

  
  


“I - I don't think I'm cut out to be a criminal, sir...” she said, perhaps a little forlornly.

  
  


“I understand, Cin. But think about this – there are many meanings to the word 'criminal'. By the broadest definition, it would mean 'someone who breaks the law'. Now, the little exercise I have just completed, for instance: I will make my money – only a bit more than will cover my expenses, I might add – from the knee-jerk reaction of the various stock-markets to the news of what I've unleashed. I am basically taking money from idiots who were hoping to make a fortune without doing any work, but who are too stupid to truly research how the international markets operate. How 'criminal' is that?”

  
  


“But, the tsunami! Thousands of people-”

  
  


“The tsunami will be taken care of – I happen to know that a U.S. submarine is at this time patrolling the Honshu Ridge, south of Japan. A few good torpedoes – or perhaps a single nuclear charge – should be able to create an opposing pressure-wave, which will cancel out the wave I've created, either completely or at least significantly. I do not kill people. I try to not even damage the property of innocents. And I certainly do not steal from the poor – I was poor once myself, you know... Now, am I still such a 'criminal'?”

  
  


Cin didn't answer, so he went on, “What if I'd stolen money from the Organized Crime businesses? Or perhaps from corrupt governments? Even from legitimate business monopolies? Suppose I were to blackmail, for instance, the corrupt Russian oil company 'Traxal' for a few billion? How 'criminal' would that be?”

  
  


“Well...”

  
  


“Just think about it, Cin, is all that I ask. Think about it as you go to college. As I understand it, you will be going to college in a year or two, yes?”

  
  


“Uh... yeah. I'm trying to decide-”

  
  


“Harvard or Yale?” Senor Senior interrupted.

  
  


“Har- Geez, I was thinking more like 'State' or 'Community'! Harvard? Yale? I – I mean, my parent's can't afford -”

  
  


“That is not your concern, my dear. Set your sights as high as you can – how else will you know how far you might go?” he said father-like, and then added cryptically, “Sometimes things work out...”

  
  


_What the hell? What's he trying to say? What's he got in mind?_ Cin thought nervously. Was he offering something? Was he  _threatening_ something? “Senor Senior... what are you trying to -”

  
  


Senor Senior stood up, “That is all I have to say... for now” he said putting an abrupt end to Cin's question. He reached over behind the console and pulled out a Saatchi shopping bag, holding it out to her, “Please see that Ms. Possible and Shego get these, with my compliments. And now I would like to shake your hand, Cin - if you would put the gun away for a moment - to seal our relationship, as it were.” He held out his hand.

  
  


Cin laid the gun on the seat next to her, too dazed to be frightened anymore. _Relationship? What relationship? With who?_ She stood up. “I... I... You...”

  
  


“Your hand, Cin, if you please.”

  
  


She held out her right hand uncertainly, and he shook it in business-like fashion.

  
  


“Oh, and one more thing – if you'll permit me?” he added, smiling at her.

  
  


“Uh... I guess...”

  
  


Senor Senior quickly reached up with both hands and ruffled vigorously through her hair, saying, “BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA!”

  
  


Her eyes _very_ wide, her mouth hanging open, Cin could only stare with incomprehension.

  
  


Senor Senior reached into his inside suit pocket and handed Cin a gilt-edged card, “I shall leave you with this. Do not hesitate to call, if you feel there might be some way I can be of service. We will meet again. Good day, Miss Cin” he said and walked out, smiling.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Hearing Kim moan, Shego got up from the couch she'd been sleeping in to see if she was finally awake. A glance at the clock showed it was morning – she'd actually slept all night. She stretched like a cat and went over to Kim's bedside.

  
  


“Sh – Shego? What... Where am I? My shoulder hurts...” The previous night Kim had been in surgery getting her bones pinned back together.

  
  


Shego pointed to her mouth and nodded 'no' – a gesture she was getting used to. She _could_ have whispered, painfully, but the doctor had told her that she'd be voiceless another day for every word she strained to get out. She wasn't to speak for three days. Shego put it at a day and a half, at most, given her powers of recuperation. She held up a spiral-bound notebook and felt-tip marker, and then proceeded to scribble, in large block letters, “CAN YOU READ THIS?”

  
  


Kim squinted at the page – she was having a hard time getting the letters to hold still, but eventually, she said, “Yeah. So, what happened? I don't remember anything after... well, I was trying to swim to the wall of the lagoon...”

  
  


Shego scribbled: “LET RON TELL STORY” and ripped off the page, then “HOSPITAL – EVERYONE OK” - rip - “NEED PAIN MED?” and a final rip.

  
  


“No... no, not yet. It just hurts is all” Kim responded, waking up a little more and realizing she was _hungry_ , “What I really need is a cheeseburger... Can you get me a cheeseburger?”

  
  


“SORRY. DR'S ORDERS. MILK?”

  
  


“Nah... Shego... I'd _really_ like a cheeseburger... can't you go get one? Please?” she said groggily.

  
  


Shego held the same sheet in front of her face as before.

  
  


“Yeah, but you don't take orders from the Doctor... you take orders from me. Get me a cheeseburger Shego...” Not thinking entirely straight, she at least knew that she could get her way. She'd do _any_ thing for a cheeseburger.

  
  


Shego stared at her seriously for a minute, then sighed and smiled faintly – or maybe it was a smirk. Finally, she wrote out a new page, “NO”, it said.

  
  


_'No'? She can't do that..._ Kim thought fuzzily. “Shego – I order you to go get me a cheeseburger! Now do it!”

  
  


Shego was surely smirking now as she wrote, “YOU DON'T MEAN IT”.

  
  


“I do _too_ mean it! I... I ordered you! What... I thought...” but Shego was already writing again.

  
  


“YOU WOULD NOT MEAN IT, IF YOU” - rip - “KNEW WHAT WAS GOOD FOR YOU”. She put her marker down and grinned broadly.

  
  


Shego's words took awhile to sink in. “So... no more 'Mistress'?” Kim asked as it dawned on her that the situation had changed.

  
  


Still grinning, Shego shrugged.

  
  


“Well... can it at least be _chocolate_ milk, then?”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Six years later.

  
  


_Beep-beep-be-beep_

  
  


“ _What's the sitch, Mon?” Shego asked. Kim craned her neck over to watch, absentmindedly gesturing to the waiter to bring their check._

  
  


“ _We got someone hijacking every television broadcast satellite over North America. The signal has been traced to somewhere in the Caribbean. K & B will meet you at the airport.”_

  
  


“ _The Caribbean? But we're in France! Dr. Director couldn't find anyone closer? And besides, this sounds like a cyber-crime – not our thing...” _

  
  


“ _Uh... I know, but Dr. Director said to send you – us, actually, Ron and I will be flying down too – specifically. I don't know the whole story yet.”_

  
  


“ _Okay, fine. Hijacking a tv signal. Christ. What are they putting in place of the usual programming then? Political rant? Demands for ransom? Offers for Viagra?”_

  
  


“ _Uhm... an old movie._ 'D.E.B.S.' _Mean anything to you?”_

  
  


_Kim and Shego exchanged looks. A movie about crime-fighting lesbians?_

  
  


“ _Miss Cin!” they said at the same time._

  
  


_Oh, these were ALWAYS good..._

  
  


End


End file.
